I found this in my driveway on Thursday. I picked it up so we wouldn't drive over it, and then brought it in and laid it on the counter because I had NO CLUE what it was and that's where I put things that I have no clue about.

Then on Friday Robyn dared me to google Diving Dolphin. And I did. And then I knew. This thing, this thingamajig - it's a cock ring of the Redneck Valley variety. A Redneck Valley cock ring! In my driveway!

Or not. But look at it...I mean what else could it be?

When I turn on the TV at 8:00 in the evening, I want to see what I'm expecting to see, which in yesterday's case was Joey/Matt LeBlanc. I do not want to see anyone else staring back at me, especially if that anyone else is President Bush. In fact, President Bush is decidedly the LAST person I want to see staring back at me. In any situation.

I will not repeat the curses and other vile things that escaped my lips when I turned on the TV and saw that NBC had been overtaken with "Political Programming." Not because I'm ashamed, but because I'm afraid I may have broken some law about not threatening the president. But let me ask you this: Why the FUCK does the president think he's worthy of primetime? I mean, if you're going to interrupt primetime, you'd better have something damn more important than social security and oil prices to talk about.

And also, let me ask you this: Why the FUCK does every goddamn network have to participate in the political programming? It couldn't possibly be their choice. NBC had been advertising this week's Thursday night line-up for weeks, and then on a whim President Bush decides it's time he take over the airwaves again. If I were a network exec, that would piss me off.

Keep in mind that we live in The House Without Cable, so as I flipped through our 4 channels, I saw President Bush, President Bush, President Bush, and President Bush. (I should probably stop typing President Bush because the last thing I want is for my blog to have any Google association with him. At all.) There were no entertainment alternatives. Just W. I was pissed. More so than is appropriate for a sane person of my age. There may have been a bit of a tantrum involved. I'm not saying there was, just that there might have been.

What I will say is this: It's a damn good thing that Jake in Progress has already ended its season, because if W had denied me my weekly Stamos fix, I would have pitched a royal fit.

This is Simon, of Butts for Butterflies fame. This morning Rob and I awoke to the sound of a cat's desperate clawing and scratching, then silence for a moment, and then the clatter of something being knocked over in the basement.

Somehow, even in my sleepy delirious state, I knew what it was. "Simon just fell down the laundry chute."

Aiight, I already posted a self-portrait for today, but I do actually have one for this week's goofy clothes theme! So I'm gonna post two. But really just one because this isn't a self-portrait at all. Whatev. If mrtl can use Bug, I can use Maylee.

If you're considering calling PETA, please click here first so that you've at least got the story straight.

So the necklace that orphanage nanny gave to Nadia last night on Alias? Yeah, I totally knew it was a trick. I figured it was either a microphone or a GPS tracker. And I was SO. TOTALLY RIGHT.

Not that it wasn't obvious. I mean, come on. When you're a spy, no one ever gives you something because they like you. No, they give you things so they can watch you, listen to you, follow you, hunt you down and kill you. How does Nadia not know this? Yes, the necklace was from her dearly-loved orphanage nanny but, as has already been discussed, NO ONE CAN BE TRUSTED ON THIS SHOW.

More importantly, though - is Jack Bristow really going to die? Jack, PLEASE tell me you're not! No really, tell me. I know Victor Garber reads this blog.