I Live Inside Myself...And I Dance With Myself Too, IF You Know What I Mean

There's this guy, like the diplomats here in our wonderful capital city, or the Natives in our country, who claims the law does not apply to him.

You see, he was recently accused of drunk driving somewhere in Pennsylvania, and while standing in court in his own defense, while wearing a Coors Light sweatshirt no less, he stated he is "a sovereign man", which he went on to explain meant "I live inside myself."

I've got to meet Scott Witmer. He's my kind of guy.

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Update on Dee and Ass:

Thanks to everyone who left comments yesterday regarding Dee's run-ins with Ass. Seems that their teacher had a little talk with both of them. As well, the vice-principal spoke to Ass and his mother. However, because this society is all about political-correctness and all things la-dee-dah, I am not privy to what was said, nor what the results may be. All I know is that the teacher was pretty darn gentle in his dealings with the boys. And I don't know a lot, but I'm pretty sure that gentle isn't quite the way to go in this instance.

I also wasn't too thrilled with the tone of the vice-principal's voice when I called her to find out what had been done. A tone that I thought resembled the tone one would use with someone who was asking questions that were none of her business. And, last time I checked, Dee was very much my business.

All I know is, Ass better not put his little hands on my Dee again. Because now it's time for Mrs. Wicked, Vile and Beastly to make an appearance.

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Yet another update, this one on my French language testing:

I flunked. Unless "flunked" means I failed miserably, in which case, I didn't. I got pretty good marks overall, but they want someone who has impeccable verbal abilities in the French language, and apparently swear words don't count.

Oh well, I can always file. Or pick up dog poop in people's yards. Or both!

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I cut Mr. Handsome's large head of hair yesterday. I could not say no any longer. He was no longer able to fit into his cubicle at work. I stand corrected. Mr. Handsome has corrected me, saying getting into the elevator was even more of a bitch.

Before cutting, however, I distinctly remember warning him that I was tired, and maybe we should wait until tomorrow. Nonono, Mr. Handsome said, waving his hands through the air pell mell, I cannot wait any longer because I can no longer fit in my cubicle. So, I took pity on him, as I often do, and cut his hair.

Today, we all noticed he has a discernible lump on one side of his head. Somehow, I missed a spot, about the size of a small potato. So, now, instead of just having a very large head, he looks like he has a second head growing out of a now smaller head. I think I would have stuck with the large head another day.