Eeeeee Ten

Ten Things We Really Don't Want to Know About You:

1. The temperature of the tip of your penis.

Lord. Put on some pants.

2. Explicit details on how you have sex with [insert choice of partner, device or appendage].

Does your mother read this weblog?

3. That you have consumed anything still alive and wriggling when it went in your mouth.

Sorry, gross, and you're making us worry about your pet hamster.

4. Body functions that you feel are unique and absorbing.

Guess what? They're not.

5. The extremely dangerous stunt you pulled with your helpless three-year-old in tow.

Next time, get a babysitter, then go try to maim yourself.

6. Your indepth analysis of why major publishers are collectively souless, brainless assembly lines that have no integrity and are therefore unworthy of your novel.

Yeah, that ought to shame them into making an offer.

7. The time you played proctologist for your pet, including pics.

All right, that does it. Back away from the hamster. Right now.

8. The horrible time you had at the con, with lots of details on the disgusting virus you picked up there.

And yet, you're going to twelve more this year. How stoic of you.

9. Your explanation as to why the Book of Your Heart should not have been rejected seventy-three times.

Uh-huh. Write something else already.

10. How much you enjoyed the time(s)your hubby beat the crap out of you.

Funny, but you all never mentioned it when I used to transport you to the emergency room.