There isn't much from my life that I want to share this week, so instead I'm going to do what I do best--poach stories from other people. I guess if it were really poaching, I'd pretend that these were my own, but instead I tell people directly "Hey, that's a good one. It's going up on my blog," and I give credit. They may be happy or sad about it, but in Meganville my vote is the one that counts. If times get really tough, and the poaching causes me to lose all friends and, therefore, entertaining material, I could make some stuff up and become the James Frey of the blogging world. I have lots of options.

Oh, I did end up "closing" one online prospect after we got to the open communication stage for various reasons. Primarily, the emails were really boring. He asked me for details about going to Israel, so I shared. He responded with, "Israel sounds great. This summer I will go to Phoenix for a workshop" and that was it. Woo-effing-hoo. I asked him about his career, which sounded very interesting, and he told me a bit about where he went to school. Well, actually, he told me where he went to school and then spent more time addressing the price of parking at the college back in the day. I'm sorry, sir, but if parking rates in '91 are a main topic during one of our first emails, I fear it's only downhill from here.

Stay tuned for another post from the Super Guest Blogger soon. I'm excited!

So, lunch with a couple of girlfriends the other day suddenly turned into an episode of Sex and the City.

The three of us were sitting at a booth, chatting away about the guy my lovely friend across the table had recently started dating. We talked about the usual stuff. What's he like? What do they have in common? Do they have fun? Is he good in bed? The answer to the last question is yes, except...My lovely friend had more to share.

Me: Oooooo, goody. Tell us!

LF: I don't know. I might be too embarrassed to even say it. It might be TMI.

Me: Nothing is TMI for me! I really want to hear.

LF: I don't know...

Us: Oh, come on.

We wait patiently for LF to make up her mind. For me, patiently = chanting "Tell us! Tell us!" so the person being questioned will feel so much pressure and annoyance she will burst out with the truth.

LF: Well, ok. So we're going along and everything is good, but then he made a request. He asked me to spit in his mouth.

SPIT.

I have to tell ya, folks, when I queried the database in my mind for potential kinky acts the guy could have asked for, SPIT did not come up once. I did not know how to process this information, so I just covered my eyes with my hand and started shaking with laughter.