We went Halloween costume shopping today. I believe the best costumes are usually of the home-made variety, but we were looking around anyway.

While we were in the costume shop, I noticed adult-sized Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes. This got me to thinking about the things we do for love. Obviously, if a man is wearing an Andy costume, his significant other wanted to dress as Raggedy Ann, and she somehow convinced him to be Andy so that their costumes matched.

Ladies, if your guy will dress up as a rag doll for you, it means one of three things:

1. He really loves you. We’re talking about that “Burning Love” Elvis sang about. Nothing to sniff at here. This is the real thing, baby.

2. He cheated on you, you found out, and now he’s trying to make up. Consider forgiving him. He’s wearing red yarn on his head. He’s sorry. Next to shooting himself outright, this is the best thing he could do to show you just how far he’s willing to go to make you trust him again.

Then again, the more I think about this scenario, the madder I get at your man for philandering. So, now I’m thinking you should break up with him. But, do it after the costume party, and be sure to take lots of pictures of him in that outfit. You’ll want to remember him that way.

3. You promised to do something pretty damn kinky in return for his compliance. I don’t know what it is you offered to do, but it must be some hot stuff, you naughty little Raggedy Ann, you. Also, he really loves you. Come on, he knew you’d end up doing the kinky thing anyway. He’s wearing those striped socks, because he loves you. I’m hearing Celine Dion in my head again. Hate that! But, your man wearing the Andy costume reminds me that our hearts will go on.

I gotta go. I’m getting choked up.

My experience of communicating with people here on the web is generally a positive one. People like her and him, and him and her brighten up my day whenever they drop in to visit. I usually like getting feedback, or I would have shut off comments by now.

So, please keep in mind while reading this that I feel nothing but love for all of my readers who at least so far haven’t been outright nasty to me. (Thanks for that, and, hey, keep up the good work.)

Unfortunately, some of my visitors in the past couple of days have been a little creepy, or insane, or stupid, or any number of combinations of all three of these qualities melted together.

The word “zany” comes immediately to mind, and, believe me, I don’t see fit to pull that word out often. It is to be used sparingly like vanilla or super hot sauce. A little “zany” goes a long way. But, see, I’ve already used it twice here, so that should tell you something.

It is to those zany folks who have been posting here that I direct the following message:

If you have ever been referred to or could conceivably ever be referred to by one of these titles, I encourage you not to post here:

A.) The kooky neighbor who steals our garbage

B.) Charles Manson

C.) That guy who tries to sniff you

D.) The crackwhore who pees freely in the hall

Also, if any of the following apply specifically to you, please refrain from posting here:

A.) You use the word “masturbate” more than twice when replying to a post where I never used that word at all. Then, you suggest that I am a “token wife” even though you never met me or my husband. In concluding your unwarranted attack on my personal life, you inexplicably thank me for considering your opinions.

B.) You are pretty sure my words are jumping off your computer screen to attack you. (Ed. Note: They are not. Please believe me. Just go lie down.)

C.) You have a severed head on your lap, and you are bottle feeding it as you read.

Now, please understand, just because I don’t want you to post here, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get these things off your chest. You should. I encourage you…no, I urge you to paint the words on your body or scrawl them on the walls in crayon, or just write a long letter to your congressperson*.

Try not to hurt yourself or others today. Oh, and don’t run with scissors. If you find you must run with scissors, aim the sharp end downward. Thanks.

Have a good weekend everyone. Hugs.

*Politicians need a good scare now and then just to keep them honest.

This is far more than likely of interest to nobody but me. It’s just a list of things I’d like to do someday. Some are more far-fetched than others.

I have a laundry basket that is one third of the way full – or two thirds of the way empty, depending on how you look at the problem – of socks that do not match.

I cannot bring myself to simply throw them all away, because as soon as I do I will find their matches. Is this optimistic or pessimistic? I can’t decide.

Here’s a Slate post that lists Donald Rumsfield’s “poems.” I gotta admit Rumsfield’s stuff is much funnier than my Ultraman haikus.

It must already be too cold outside for our dog, Max. He has taken to howling mournfully to be let back into the house as soon as he finishes doing whatever business he has in the back yard.

He sounds like a coyote or a fire-truck siren, depending on the urgency of his desire to be readmitted. Maybe I can add a sound wave to this post. You’d have to hear it to truly appreciate how pathetic he sounds. By the way, according to our thermometer, it’s 72 degrees outside. I can’t imagine how painfully dramatic he’s going to act when it actually gets cold here.

He’s going on 101 in dog years, so maybe 72 degrees feels pretty cold to his old bones. I let him in as quickly as possible, but man he sure can wail. Snap. Snap. Maybe he just needs an audience of beatniks to appreciate what he’s laying down. I’m donning my beret and ironing my hair. Let’s get naked and smoke….