Amish has a mystery date for the class reunion.

Mystery daaaaate. . . .

He's going to need help. When it comes to women, that boy's like a shaky-legged fawn stumbling into an industrial grade dough mixer. Use the comments board at the end of this post to leave hints and tips on the wooing of women! We'll deliver them to Amish unless they're too cruel, mocking, non-helpful, mean-spirited, or threatening. And maybe we'll deliver those anyway.

I am so fucking excited because his mystery date is not some wildly obese woman, nor was she deformed in some sort of Algerian eyelid- and nose-cutting ritual. Her face is not tattood with the Sri Lankan creation tableau, nor have her fingers been sewn shut by a maniacal parent in an attempt to create a living puppet. I hope everyone is like "Amish? I thought he didn't have a girlfriend." "I guess he does now." "Wow! Let's all sleep with him!" "Okay!"

Of course, it will be the jocks saying that.

Goathead and I were just discussing, very briefly, some of our romantic buffoonery—mostly mine—and so to the people I've made an idiot of myself around: sorry. I really am sorry for being selfish or otherwise idiotic, when it happens.

I have to write a report on Iowa munitions workers. Does anyone know where munitions workers work? (I know I asked this the other day, but . . . go to hell). Looks like there used to be a factory in Middletown, but nto sure if that still stands.

Does anyone read SF or fantasy magazines? Either online or in print? If so: titles?