716 must be as high as blogger can count

My apartment complex must cut costs by allowing all kinds of solicitors to send me junk mail. Some of it is good bathroom material but most of it is just a waste of trees. One of the little postcards left in my mailbox the other day caught my eye. It had a beautiful brunette with piercing blue eyes standing with her arms crossed against a dark blue background. She was fully clothed, but there was no doubt in my mind why she was on this postcard: Sex appeal, baby! So I'm thinking, "Sweet, Maxim is now soliciting to my apartment."

Well, turns out it was the Postal Service trying to get me to rent a Post Office Box. Since when does the Postal Service use hot chicks to sell P.O. boxes? I'm not saying it's a bad idea, it sure got my attention. It just seems really out of character for the Postal Service. I used to have a sort of fear/respect of their gun-toting, mail-mutilating ways. Now I'm just confused and kinda turned on.

Romminger is going to have a baby.

My high school self boggles at this thought. I don't know if I should laugh or cry. Cause you know this is only the beggining! Soon our other friends are going to get it into their fool minds that their biological clocks are ticking and they need to procreate. But really, who better to populate the Earth...propegate the species...than the evoultional pinnicle that is Romminger's DNA. I sure hope Nick starts the baby factory soon. And Ryan better get on the ball as well. Kevin is probably sterile, but we can keep our fingers crossed.

The rest of us had just better keep our seed to ourselves. We don't want to contaminate this delightful little pool of genes.

Oh...and by the way...Romminger better hope Karma is a myth. Because otherwise, that baby is bound to be a Mongoloid.