Take me down where the good honey flows...

The big dipper sure ain't big enough
To hold all of your dang good stuff
So let the people say we're down right nasty
I just say we're down right...

- B52s


The porn story is brewing in my head; thank you for your suggestions. In case you haven't done so yet, go here and follow the instructions.

Despite threats of impending miserable weekend, London is sunny and shimmery. Kevin and I have gone swimming in the local gym: while I do laps, Kevin floats belly up. I've signed up for a 19-pound membership that gives me unlimited access to the pool. In the changing room, I saw a big man put some gooey white cream on his penis, then put on his boxers. What's up with that? He didn't even spread the cream; it was like topping up his penis with chantilly then pulling the boxers up - I can just imagine the mess. See? My mind is in the right place for writing something erotique.

Oh, Stephen King is shit. Don't read him.

We rented Frailty from the library because I'm in the mood for scary. Ripley's Game didn't do it for me.

We had a Swedish-style lunch: ryvitta bread, ham, cheese, hummous, cherry tomatoes, juice, water, chocolate biscuits.

Oh, Stephen King is lame. Don't watch anything by him.