But I don't feel tardy

Ok. There were some ants all up in my space today. They were in a line and shit. I sprayed them with Raid (RAID!) and now my room smells like death. If you don't know the meaning of the phrase "sickly sweet", then snort some Raid and you'll know. After I nuked them and cleaned up their carcasses, I tried to find their origin, which was, surprise surprise, a hole in the wall. So now when I look at my walls, I see them as some sort of teeming, pulsating collective organism and I totally throw up a little even though that sounds kind of psychedelic and cool.

I've noticed that my hit count has included several international visitors, and when I investigated further, I found that most of them stumbled upon my blog by searching for Kermit. I don't really know what to do with that information. Except state it here. Welcome, hola, and gesundheit.

I told my class today about my conflicted feelings about The Hills, they understood, and, bless 'em, they didn't judge. B-ful asked me to expound on the representation of the male within The Hills, and I tell you, I am stumped. Flummoxed. Spencer Whinyface and his merry band of morons is one thing, but Justin-Bobby? Really? I understand that your viewers are the same ones who listen to Maroon 5 and have sweatpants with words written on the butt, but c'mon, MTV, give your demographic a tiny bit of credit and don't introduce a CLOWN as a potential love interest. That guy totally got his PhD in clown from the University of Clown in Clownsville and I would categorize his style as "homeless chic." His hair should have its own show. ("Unwashed: The Story of Justin-Bobby's Curls") Stay tuned to see if I can dig my way out of the Justin-Bobby thought puzzle.