Beeswax: What's Mine? What's Yours?

This is never an easy question to answer. The Native Americans believed that we do not inherit the beeswax from our ancestors, but that we borrow the beeswax from our children. Of course, the Native Americans were also apparently transfixed by shiny things. As went Manhattan, so goes my beeswax.

O.k. Friendster. What the hell is up with this site? It's a disaster! I can't even sign in half the time... and sometimes I get a message in my e-mail saying that I got a Friendster message, and then I sign in to Friendster to get it and I can't get it because my Friendster personal profile has reverted back to this saved crap from the 6th. Now when I sign in there's all this information on my profile that I totally changed ages ago! It's poo. That said, I don't want to un-sign up because I like hooking to people who are far away, and not everyone has the amazing blog stamina that I do.

O.K., so for my birthday, I want to have a giant, birthday-cake-sized, double-layer peanut butter cup. Just let your mind consider that for a moment. Unless you hate or are allergic to peanut butter or something.