Keep an Eye on Summer

Two articles I noticed that seem relevant this summer. The first about the Zica virus’ potential to be transmitted sexually in addition to via mosquito, and the second about the most recent problems Rio is facing as the 2016 olympics draw near:


Zika sex research begins despite U.S. Congress funding impasse

“….In the meantime, health officials have warned couples to refrain from unprotected sex for six months after a male partner is infected. The extraordinary recommendation, based on a single report of Zika surviving 62 days in semen, could affect millions.”



Rio’s horror week: Body parts wash up near Olympics beach volleyball site

“…There are other issues of concern of course, like the untreated sewage in the waters which athletes complained have made them break out in disease. The U.S. Olympic rowing team is taking extra precautions and will be wearing seamless antimicrobial unisuits to compete, while the German sailing team has been practicing trying to sail in trash-coated waters.”


Super Buddies

Greg’s UFOs

Family friend Greg Kozak sent me this essay he wrote about his trip to Area 51.
Dutifully following our Mapquest printout and Matt’s GPS (I have a dumb phone that I use solely, well, as a phone), we turned left off of State 93, and then proceeded down the astoundingly empty road ahead of us. “There’s actually a sign,” I said in amazement as we entered the route. “Nevada 375, Extraterrestrial Highway,” I read slowly. “Wow- we’re really here. I can knock this one off of my bucket list.“   The gloom was absolute, overpowering, even menacing, malevolent, a palpable nothingness that almost seemed alive with sinister intent. I felt something akin to awe, a fluttering in my stomach, those proverbial butterflies you get when you can’t figure out if you’re more excited than frightened, or more frightened than excited. I knew for sure which one I felt more. So did Matt. “Yeah,” he said, his voice animated, tinged with exhilaration, almost like mine, but not quite.   I sensed some trepidation, too, however, and decided to exploit it. “Think we’ll be abducted,” I asked, purposely feigning nagging apprehension.   “Don’t say that!” He screamed, glaring over at me, jaw clenched, angry that I dared broach the possibility. Still scowling, he turned back to the steering wheel. His knuckles were white; he gripped it with an intensity borne of fear, even terror, he admitted to himself. The realization escalated his dread even more. “This is serious business! Don’t say that anymore!” Trepidation indeed.

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Performance & True Desire

I have not seen any footage/pictures, any general media “proof” to corroborate this headline. I simply pass along a deserving/undeserving reflexive-responsive catalytic force of Acconcian proportions.

I’m sure what follows is trash, and should by all ethical standings be justifiably terminated, but for the sake of life and love, and laughter I beneath this pile of human shit, to you. xoxo

he achieved an orgasm and ejaculated on the stuffed horse’s chest area. The defendant then placed the soiled stuffed horse on top of a bed in a bag (comforter set) contaminating that property also. The defendant then exited the store and left the property. Contact was made with the defendant directly across the street.