Quotableness

From Al Gore's Diary, which is far, far, far too amusing for its own good:

So, who thinks I have a stick up my ass? We'll see about that stick when I remove it and beat Bush over the goddamn head with it.

In my interview with Yahoo magazine, I said that I'd consider putting up a web cam in the Oval Office. An Al-Cam. C'mon, how cool would that shit be?

So I went on CNN, addressed the back wall in a room full of reporters, and asked for a meeting with the guy. Maybe we could talk. Maybe we could get the nation to stop hating this shit. The assmunch REFUSES.

Plus, when you're up there with your top half on the big screen, there's really no need for pants, is there?

The American public is under the impression that their future president has a giant schlong, an assumption that's--well--correct.

Tipper had a fit. She grabbed Lieberman, who was watching the proceedings with mild amusement, and dragged him off to the nearest broom closet, presumably to show him what enjoyment can be derived from the sparklers.

Tipper is under the desk and has her thumb up my ass on national TV, but I'm still smiling. Or I'm trying to.

I think the American public technically *did* elect my ass, did they not?

Yah. This is what I'm doing when my muses refuse to talk.

Eeep

Likkit. Birthday card from my family. Aw.

Also aw: Nette gave me the Jason/Bryan for my brithday. Sighage.

Happy birthday to me

I'm 20. I turned twenty reading this and chatting and panicking. I don't feel 20. I hardly feel 16. Oddness est.