It's true. I eat baby food. Vanilla custard pudd'n in the tiny jar with the sultry infant on the label. Hardcore cookies for those who are teething. Yummy.

I wonder if I could go to jail for saying "sultry infant"?

Remember my rant about telling that boy he could rub my head and I'd be something of an orgasmic cat? That's still true. It was always true, but I didn't have to go telling him that. But seriously, rub my head. I'll be nowhere but in your hand.

I wonder if I could go to jail for saying "orgasmic cat"?

I go dress-shopping tomorrow! Tee-he-he. Dresses are fun. Bananas are fun, too. I think his diary still says, "I have two bananas in my pocket." Oh, but they were not in his pocket. They were in mine.

I wouldn't go to jail for having multiple bananas in my pants, but I sure would get strange looks. I did get strange looks.

Hot Tomato Man-Love...or is it Hot Tomato-Man Love? Grammar is such a wonderful tool.

"I think I'll...stroke my touch pad."

I mean, that would be pretty darn nerdy for a girl and a boy to be in a room together and only want to look at internet porn. Those are hardcore computer geeks.

What I have discussed in this entry: pedophilia, zoophilia, some sort of female double-erection, and cybersex. I am dirty, dirty Milquetoast.