Instead, for being-polite-and-not-burning-any-bridges reasons I'll just say this.

Never underestimate peoples' ability to stab you in the back. And then, while you're on the ground writhing in pain, twist the knife.

I promise to have a new episode ready to go next week.

Sorry, people.

In fact, I forgot how until now. And even now, I'm only really motivated out of some OCD urge to get a post up before midnight. This is actually harder than you think because I've just discovered Top Gear on BBC America.

Rambling? Yes, yes I am.

Mess kit.

So that she can never deny it, I posted the definition on Urban Dictionary.

See what happens when a nice Mormon girl is left alone with me without her temple garments for a weekend? Vaginal euphemisms, that's what.

No camera = no photos.

Guess what? Someone invented that machine and this past weekend, Donna and I went back in time. It was like a magic spell had been cast on as I watched my mom's car disappear around the corner with with the kids crammed into the back seat like lobster in a cage. One of those magic spells that lasts one whole week.

Before the garage door even closed behind them I had my pants off. I NEVER get to spend time without my pants on. What with the house full of girls and my mom. I'm a boxers man and sometimes there's, you know, gapping. But this week, it just doesn't matter. So... in this house, this week, no pants. It's a rule, in fact.

Oh, I'll miss them in a couple days but until then. Don't call, I'm busy not listening to anyone go on about how much they saved on sour cream at Sam's Club. WITHOUT PANTS.

Earlier today, I was checking out my server logs and noticed a couple of referrals from Google searches for "ur mom's a nice piece of lettuce". Interesting. Then I noticed the IP address of the visitor. I mean, I recognized the IP address.

It's my home IP address. I knew Donna wasn't at home. A quick glance at my IM buddy list confirmed what I already knew. My oldest daughter, Megan, was online. The Google search was hers.

P: What are you doing?

M: Chatting with friends.

P: And?

M: And... playing games.

P: And?

M: And what?

P: What site are you on?

M: addictivegames.com

P: I know what site you are on. Just tell me. I'm not mad.

M: You know?

P: Yes.

M: Ugg. About my myspace?

P: Umm... what?!?

M: Are you mad?

P: Well, I'll forgive you about your secret site if you forgive me of mine.

M: OK. So I can keep my myspace.

P: No. Now stop reading my site.

M: OK

So yeah. We've had to have a little talk about boundaries and staying safe online tonight. It went pretty well, actually. It went like this.

"Daddy is embarrassed that you found his site like you did. It's not really for kids."

"Is there stuff about me on there?"

"Umm... yes."

"Daddy!"

So, yeah. I really do need to do a little belated censoring. I think I got most of the really embarrassing stuff shuffled away into the ether of unpublished blog posts and middle school journals. But if you see anything that I missed.

PLEASE TELL ME.

Honestly, I would have done this whole blog thing differently if I had it to do over again. Maybe it's time to come out to everyone I know.

Or, you know, not.

Special thanks to Matt for giving me a hand with some much needed post production audio work. I'm working on a new recording setup for next week. Hopefully, the audio quality will be much improved and I won't need to call him in a panic again.