Dear Sensual Mystical Windblown One,
You sound like the best thing to pass thru these parts since the Grateful Dead booster bus broke down in Biggs.
I'm an attractive Jesus/John Lennon/Chewbacca/Charlie Manson lookin', guitar playin', Mother Nature lovin', Liberal-votin', motorcycle ridin', incense burnin', sandle wearin', long-haired hippie.
If you haven't already met your Bohemian soulmate, I'd like to try out for the position.
Even if you have, I'd still like to meet you and be your friend--you sound cool.
Monday, March 30, 1992
Response to Sensual Mystical Windblown Personal Ad (fragment)
Hi, I'm Andrew, AKA Hoodyup the Evil Caregiver, and I approved this blog post. I may not have been in my right mind at the time, but what's done is done. I stand by my sins. Eppur si muove.
I started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations with life, the universe and everything (not the book by Douglas Adams; that was quite good, actually).
My seemingly charmed life took a turn in 2004 when my wife Sharon was diagnosed with MS. This blog documents the fallout and revisits the past, as well as chronicling my dreams and rants throughout the years.
Be warned - explicit language and content that runs the gamut can be found in these posts, which describe personal events, both real and those dreamed up by my overactive nocturnal psyche.
Also, I use real names whenever possible, so if you see a post with your name on it, it probably refers to you. Unless, of course, you don't know me, in which case it is purely coincidental.
Enjoy your visit. Comment, if you so desire, or lurk privately. This blog can be your guilty pleasure (or displeasure).
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.