Someone’s All Wet
Someone writes in from an IP address in Ohio:
i like oceans
So what on earth are you doing in Toledo? You obviously don’t like oceans as much as, say, the heroine of Blue Crush, who is willing to give up everything for the life of a hardcore surfer chick. Or something like that, I haven’t actually seen the movie. Regardless, it’s probably a good model for your new life, Toledo, you just need more discipline to acheive it.
It’s humid up here. Bad desert. No cookie.
See? That’s discipline! Deserts love cookies. However, there’s a problem: it’s not humid. My nose isn’t full of crusty bloody boogers and my lips aren’t cracking to hell, so it’s not bone-dry either—but real humidity doesn’t start until your sweat no longer evaporates. My sweat is definitely evaporating, right off my skin, just like it’s supposed to. If you’re not careful, Mr. Tough Love, your little desert will grow up to be an angry, neurotic bundle of self-hatred, and then where will you be?