The aftermath of uploading ones thoughts is inadmissable. It only counts if someone determined to do havoc goes after you. The www is like the oceans - only the Jacques Cousteaus of the world can be believed about details. I said "he's a poopyhead BOO-HOO." But you ignore what I said about sanity, discretion and the APV of Big Beer. Your invitation is just an icebreaker. We strand ourselves on these islands of confusion and only Wilson and the 6 rules from "People Like Us" can key-in the passcode for rescue. I pre-coital because I joined the social brain scan and faltering memory can't block the imagination. It was not surreal while being vivid and jackpotty. That was some nice dalliance there. No, there's not a DVD for sale but it was the best of the homebrews since Anne Heche found her real G-spot. I won't confess or digress but thank you collective conscience-ness for bringing the tabloid version of room service last night. The Cowsills Rodeo Roundup was soulbaring.