Now, Honestly!

I know most of you are going to scroll down to the end just to see who won the Dan Aykroyd wine giveaway.  Just make sure you come back up here and read the rest of the post because I talk all about me!

One year ago today, As I Was Saying was born.  What started out as a writing blog where I could wax eloquent about my thoughts and my life turned into a blog where I write about waxing.  And hair cuts, clueless students, weird running companions, and other odd people in my life.  It’s been fun and at times cathartic.  But the best thing about blogging has been (everyone get your hankies out) meeting you, Innernetz.  Thanks for sticking around.  Thanks for your comments and emails.  Thanks for your support and encouragement.  And, when I needed to hear it, thanks for telling me to “Shut the fuck up already!  You think you have it so hard? There are starving children in Africa and moose running from rabid-incoherent-VP-wannabe-hockey-moms-with-high-powered-rifles-in-helicopters who have real problems!” So, yeah, thanks for that. Keep on keepin’ it real, Innernetz!

It’s been a great good interesting year overall, but it has been a fabulous year of blogging.  I’ve won quite a few awards including some I have not mentioned yet.  I was recently listed at Blogtrepenuer as one of the 100 Must Read Blogs . . . Written by Women!  I’m excited!  Thrilled!  Honored!  There are some great blogs on the list in several categories so pop over there and check them out.

And April at It’s All About Balance has also given me some cyberbling — the Honest Scrap Award.  You know how I feel about honesty.  It’s always the best policy if you don’t think you can get away with lying.  We’re supposed to list ten honest things about ourselves but I’m only going to list two.

• My poop is green.  Yes, green.  Remember my ode to Mr. Dingo’s Red Velvet Cake?  Alas, it was not to be.  I searched the entire grocery store for red food coloring.  All they had was blue.  There was an entire shelf devoted to blue food coloring.  I suppose it’s the overstock from all the Obama baking.  But really, they need to stock the red now.  Can’t we all just get along?

So, Blue Velvet it was.  Except that when we poured the blue food coloring into the cake batter, it turned green.  Not pretty Spring time green.  No, this was someone-left-the-cheese-in-the-fridge-too-long green.  It was Shrek with food poisoning green.  But the cake was good and the frosting was heavenly.  And I ate half of it in one night.  The next morning my poop was green.  I asked Mr. Dingo to come look but he wouldn’t.  I then asked him if his poop was green.  He said that he hadn’t checked but since he only had one slice to my ten, his poop probably wasn’t green.  Do people poop red after eating Red Velvet Cake?  You just know that someone somewhere is receiving a government grant to research just this issue.

Hmmm, maybe this is one of those stories where I should’ve lied.  Mr. Dingo made Red Velvet Cake.  It was good.  The end. 

• I dumpster dive in my own trash.  Remember my stinky shoes?  Innernetz, when your shoes are in the bedroom closet and you can smell them in the living room, it’s time to throw them away.  So I did.  Days passed.  It rained.  It snowed.  I wore boots.  And then…then, the sun came out.  The clouds parted, flowers bloomed, children laughed, and angels sang.  And I didn’t have appropriate too-warm-for-boots-not-yet-warm-enough-for-flip-flops footwear.  What’s a Dingo to do?! 

I’ll tell you what she does, she rummages to the bottom of the trash and takes her stinky shoes from under layers of funk, egg shells, and coffee grinds.  Perfect!  I don’t even think they stink anymore.  The competing offensive aromas canceled each other out and all I smell is, well, nothing.  Dingo Girl has been acting odd, however. When I take my good as new old shoes off, Dingo Girl immediately tries to bury them or rolls on them with squeaks and groans of ecstasy.  She does the same thing when we’re at the park and she finds a three-day dead pigeon.  She’s just weird like that.

So, those are my two Honest Scrap offerings.  After those two, I can’t imagine that you’d want to know any more. 

And now, what you’ve all been waiting for….the winner of the I’m a Bitch, You’re a Lush Giveaway…..The Coconut Diaries!  This was her winning foot-in-mouth anecdote:

Me: I hate taking aerobics classes with these college students. I feel so old!
Lady: I know what you mean. (uncomfortable silence). You know, I was really excited about Obama’s win. It’s like the first time I can remember being so moved by a president.
Me:  Really? Even more than Kennedy?
Lady: Well, I was 3 then.

That just cracked me up.  Coconut Diaries, I’m surprised you didn’t show her some of your own high-impact moves.

Shelly certainly gets an honorable mention for:

As a 20 yr old, working at her first Big Girl job, I was a bookkeeper, office ‘girl’/apartment/duplex manager for a construction guy.
There was this lady who has all sorts of personal problems that was going to move out of a duplex.  A second lady wanted said duplex.  I called Lady #1 to get the scoop of her time frames (of moving out) and got the latest tale of woe about her divorce and I am certain other devastation in her life.  I proceeded to call lady #2 to tell her that she couldn’t have the duplex for a while...and immaturely recounted EVERY DETAIL of this poor lady #1’s dismal life.......being all cute and gossipy, you know?
As it turned out, my airheaded 20 year old self actually dialed the FIRST number on my list (which belonged to lady #1) and of course her name was next to the number so unthinkingly I asked for her....and recounted her OWN SORRY LIFE BACK TO HER........yea...so much for cute and gossipy. 

Thanks to everyone for participating!  Please drink to another year of As I Was Saying and to good friends, good food, and green poop.

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Rice Wine?  Really?

It happens every year.  Mr. Dingo’s office does the stupid Secret Santa gift exchange and I run all over the city trying to find something intriguing and unique for him to give.  This year he had three (THREE!) Secret Santa gift exchanges.  That’s partially my fault.  He started out with only one Secret Santa exchange but the gifts I pulled myself away from the Law & Order marathon to find were so cool that other groups in his office asked him to join theirs.  By the time we finished shopping for the gift extortion we had only enough money in our bank account to tell family and friends, “Well, maybe next year.”

What’s even worse than exchanging gifts with someone you probably wouldn’t even exchange a greeting with on a normal day is that his gifts?  The ones he received?  Suck.  They suck Yeti balls.  Would anyone like a bottle of rice wine?  I can’t even re-gift that shit.  Hmmm…maybe I’ll use it for a future giveaway.  Along with some toe jam and a copy of Weird Al Yankovick’s Greatest Hits.  Yes, he actually has a Greatest Hits CD.  If you own it, we can no longer be friends.

But friends and relatives be damned, I have gifts for you, Innernetz!  Thanks for entering my giveaway for Keri Smith’s The Guerilla Art Kit and Living Out Loud.  I actually think I’m going to go buy copies of these for myself. For those of you too lazy humble to link to your own writing, there will be future giveaways and contests.  I’m trying to think of something great to giveaway for my blogaversary in February. 

I really enjoyed re-reading the posts that my fellow bloggers linked to.  You should grab yourself a nice glass of rice wine and curl up with these good reads:

• April at It’s All About Balance wrote about The Power of Negative Thinking for LA Moms.

• Mel Heth from Melissunderstandings, Life According to Mel Heth submitted what I am sure will be in Fox Television’s Spring line-up, When Necklaces Attack.

• New Life In South Dakota’s Kate has a unique take on hair care with It’s Raining Today.

• Ms. Darkstar at Darkstarian Discourse and Diversions somewhere in the frozen tundra is a longtime blogger with a new blog.  She submitted The Stupid, It Burns.

• If you needed proof that blakspring is actually female, she provides it with Proof That I May Actually Be Female.

• Fancy pants wearing Meg at Golightly writes about election night bingo and the trauma of not finding “Giant Shit Burger” on the Bingo cards in What A Relief.

• Marjolein at Won’t Let Life Define Me has Random Thoughts While Working At Home.

• Jenny is truly Wonder Woman.  She lives in a Cottage on Fox Hollow and submitted an entry about Brain Surgery. I almost felt bad laughing at some of her experiences but I know that she wants to be treated no differently than anyone else.  Since I laugh at everyone else, she’s fair game.

• stealthnerd over at Strict Shenaniganist is a Nyquil lightweight.  The sniffling, sneezing, blah, blah, blah medicine gives her a Nyquil hangover.

• You know the person in front of you at Subway who places an order for a gabillion people in her office, holding up the line until your lunch hour is over?  Ms. H at Molding Young Minds is That Girl.  She must be stopped.

• I would love Angst Girl Jules even if her dog Daisy didn’t look like Dingo Girl.  I would just have to work harder at it.  Just kidding, Jules!  In Crisis Averted, Jules writes about Daisy’s Homeland Security experience.

• Mrs. Chili at The Blue Door always makes me think, question, and get off my butt to take action. Her Ten Reasons why she’s an outspoken GBLT advocate/ally is a must read. 

• Organic Mama at Life and Times of Organic Mama submitted a post she wrote when her two daughters went away to summer camp in This Thing Called Motherhood.  It’s a great post about being a mom but also being yourself.  I would love for O’Mama to adopt me but she substitutes maple syrup for sugar.  No can do.  I bet she uses real maple syrup, too.  Perhaps, organic maple syrup and not that overly processed, calorie laden, yet sickeningly sweet Mrs. Butterworth deliciousness.

So, those were the entries.  I placed the names in an empty tissue box and with great fanfare (yes, I made my own musical accompaniment) and unnecessary flourish, I drew names.  Organic Mama is going to receive Living Out Loud and Marjolein is going to receive a transatlantic package containing The Guerilla Art Kit.  Send me your addresses ladies, so I can stalk you I can send you your books.  Thanks, Innernetz, for participating!

Happy New Year, Innernetz!

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My dinner with…

Last night I had dinner with Stoogepie of stoogepie.com. 

One of the best things to come from blogging is that I have gotten to meet so many people that I wouldn’t have known otherwise.  Including people who, like Stoogepie, if not already on a sexual predator list. probably will be someday.  You see, Stoogepie is some kind of pervert madman writer and artist.  It was with some anticipation and trepidation that I met the famous, or infamous, Mr. Stoogepie.  I took Mr. Dingo with me.  And left detailed information with family and friends if I did not text, Tweet, or call the next day.

The point of this meeting was to witness the choice of the winner of Stoogepie’s Nude MILF Sweepstakes.  Yesterday, the winners of the Blogger’s Choice Awards were chosen, so the contest ended.  Crissy won the Hottest Mommy Blogger category!  She won with 578 votes, beating Dooce by 86 votes!  Fantabulous! Oh yeah!  Who’s your Hottest Mommy Blogger?  Say her name…say it!

Stoogepie had to select a winner for better than $1,250 worth of camera gear.  And, because the asshats at Blogger’s Choice decided not to show the votes, Stoogepie needed a witness to demonstrate that he picked the winner fairly.  When I got the e-mail from Stoogepie asking me to play Heidi Klum to his Tim Gunn, I almost deleted it as spam.  The message was from Stoogepie but the subject line said something like, “Night of XXXtacy.” I opened it with hesitation – meaning I opened it at work just in case there was a virus attached – and was delighted to discover that he wanted my assistance in choosing the winner of the camera package.  Apparently, I have mentioned on my blog that I used to be a lawyer but I suspect I was also chosen for this perilous assignment because I am also anonymous and happen to live within walking distance of Stoogepie.  Then again, I’ve also mentioned that I have great ta-tas.  No, no, it’s not that; I’m convinced Stoogepie loves me for my mind.

We were supposed to meet October 16th because he expected the winners to have been announced by then.  Because that’s what the website said.  But, again, the asshats at Blogger’s Choice messed up that plan by announcing the winners after midnight.  So, Stoogepie cancelled and rescheduled for last night.

So, I waited on a street corner with a shivering Mr. Dingo.  It really wasn’t all that cold, but Mr. Dingo had been given a crash course in stoogieness the day before via Stoogepie’s latest barfably disgusting post.  I think he was a little worried.  Mr. Dingo has never been worried about my blogger meet-ups before but, for some reason, he really wanted to go on this one.  I think he was concerned that steak was not the only meat on Stoogepie’s menu for the evening.

Stoogepie approached me and I immediately knew it was him.  He didn’t say anything.  He didn’t say “hello.” He didn’t say, “Dingo!” He circled me a few times, and I could almost see a Mister Shorts style balloon over his head saying, “Well, I’ve got a contest in my shorts I’d like for you to monitor,” or something similar.  He did not look like his cartoon.  His hair is shorter and darker and his features are sharper.  Brookem, I think you have your next HOH.  He’s thin but muscular, and was wearing a gray coat so long that it looked like it had been stolen from the set of the Matrix.  In other words, he’s delish.  In that bad boy type of way.  Not a poser bad boy but a REAL bad boy.  The kind of bad boy that you just know is going to break your heart but that you will gladly wait in line for the privilege.  I’m paraphrasing a little, but he finally said, “Dingo!  You’re different from what I was expecting.  All I got right in my mind were the boots and the tits.” Then he turned to Mr. DIngo and said, “I didn’t really have a picture of you at all.  I’m Stoogepie.”

We then went to his apartment, which was-oh-my-fucking-god: spacious, lots of art, lots of books, a fireplace in the living room and the kitchen (yes, I asked to see the kitchen), and the most beautiful coffee table I have ever seen.  I tried not to gape like a tourist in Times Square.  Sadly, I didn’t see the Stoogepie pig.  Or his cat for that matter.  He also had the biggest flat-screen computer monitor I have ever seen.  And given from what Stoogepie has said about his extracurricular activities, it was notably free of, ahem, let’s say, debris. Mr. Dingo’s monitor envy was thinly concealed.  Stoogepie said something like, “Well, you know what they say about dudes with big monitors....” Mr. Dingo laughed nervously.  Mr. Dingo has a 17” monitor.  The whole night was like that.

Stoogepie wanted to get right down to business.  There were 578 votes cast.  He went to random.org and chose a number between 1 and 578.  The number was 277.  He had printouts of the first eighteen pages of votes, so he flipped to page 14 and the winner was Soapbox.  (If it had not been in the first eighteen pages, he would have had a problem, but intended to email to Blogger’s Choice to ask them to tell him the username.) So, we had chosen a winner and it was all perfectly legal.  It was easy.  But the night was still young and the wine was flowing.

For dinner, we went to Uncle Jack’s in Midtown, a fancy schmancy steakhouse, but Stoogepie was treating. Gun running and drug smuggling must be really lucrative.  We each ordered a steak and then Stoogepie ordered stuff for the table, including wine and seafood and Kobe beef.  I had never had Kobe beef before.  It’s ridiculously expensive and I have to admit, it tasted like hamburger to me.  It’s tender all right, so it had the consistency of potted meat food product and it disintegrated in your mouth.  It had the texture of Spam that had been put in a blender and then pushed through a sieve.  Mr. Dingo, however, liked it and, overall, the food was great.  The wine was great, too, and I had way, way too much.  Not enough to enter Ben’s contest perhaps—because, as NPW and blakspring can tell you, I’m a lightweight—but enough so that being with Stoogepie while also feeling like a rich kid’s birthday piñata might have been a mistake. Because Stoogepie, in case you don’t follow his website, can be nauseatingly explicit.

Truth is, Stoogepie is really funny in person, especially after a little wine.  After about the first bottle, he looked across the table at Mr. Dingo and said, “This is always awkward.  Do I raise the possibility of a threesome now, while you have time to mull it over, or do I wait until you get to know me better, but forcing you to make a snap decision?” Mr. Dingo just stared past him blankly, his mouth agape, Kobe beef semi-dissolved, until I started to laugh.  I think Mr. Dingo shaved about a year off his life just then, though.  Then Stoogepie proceeded to shave a year off mine.

I consider myself a pretty well-rounded person, and I don’t mean just my ass.  But Stoogepie is positively a fount of disturbingly funny knowledge.  About bondage. And domination. And bizarre sexual practices. And pornography and biblical tales of people killing other people so they could collect their foreskins.  For instance, did any of you know that Sir Henry Norris, alleged lover of Anne Boleyn who was executed with her by Henry VIII, was also royal groom of the stool?  And did you know that the groom of the stool’s job was to wipe the king’s ass?  Yes, look it up.  I did after dinner.  According to Stoogepie, “I would kill my wife if she screwed the dude who wiped my ass, too.  Show a little discrimination!  At least screw around with the royal piss aimer or the royal wanker.” The Kobe beef was tasting nastier and nastier.  And Stoogepie carries a little notebook with him, often illustrating these glorious stories as he goes.  It was like a game of Pricktionary.  Not everything he says is dirty.  We did talk a good deal about politics.  If you haven’t read his political posts because the sex and blasphemy posts have gotten your internet privileges banned at work, find a computer in a library somewhere and read President Sarah Palin, Modern War Toys, and No Country for Young Men.  Warning:  Electoral Buttplugs may get your ass banned from the library.  Politically we agree on most everything, but Stoogepie had his own take on some things:  “People really need to think about what a Palin presidency would look like, because McCain is at that age when dying does not even qualify as a turn of events.”

Really, I haven’t felt like talking much since dinner.  Mr. Dingo and I have hardly anything left to talk about.  We covered it all.

Stoogepie never did cough up his real name but the waiter happened to let it slip when he returned Stoogepie’s credit card.  “Thank you, Mr. ____,” he said.  I just about flipped out.  That’s like knowing James Bond’s real name!  Oh wait, James Bond is 007’S real name, isn’t it?  Anyway, I am sworn to secrecy or Stoogepie will kill me.  And I’ve seen Stoogepie’s collection of play toys.  There will be no killing me softly.  As a result, that’s all I have to say about my dinner with Stoogepie.

Oh, wait!  One more thing.  He didn’t advertise it or promote it in any way but Stoogepie won second place as the Hottest Celebrity Blogger in the 2008 Blogger’s Choice Awards!  He got beat by some woman named Rosie O’Donnell.  Who the hell is that?

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Catatonia is not a Eastern European Country

In the midst of all the gimmicks and ridiculous rah-rah Spirit Club Drill Team Cheer Squad bullshit that the administration at my Institution of Higher Learning wants me to shovel down the throats of my students, I sometimes actually get to teach.  Sure the pom-poms get in the way and I haven’t perfected my back handspring, but I love teaching. It’s the only job I’ve ever had that has me looking forward to every day. Well, except for one summer when I worked at a video store.  The Pizza Hut across the parking lot was undergoing extensive renovations and the summer sun glistening off the sweat-slicked abs of the construction workers was enough to make the daylight shunning goth chick I worked with fight for the afternoon shift.  I’m not sure if she was motivated by lust or the fact that all the heavy lifting they were doing made blood pump through their carotid arteries like a vampire’s wet dream.  Yes, we had binoculars.  Yes, we used them.  Ahhh… summer….

What was I saying?  Oh, yeah something about loving to teach. Anyway, although I taught class this summer I didn’t have anything to write about because, except for two plagiarists (I’m resigned to the fact there’s going to be at least one fucker every semester who wants to play chicken with me and Mr. Google), they were awesome.  Truly something to cheer about.  Give me an “A”!  Give me a “W”! Give me the rest of the word without having to spell it out!  I could write odes to this summer class; their hard work, curiosity, vision, and drive to succeed is every teacher’s dream. In fact, only three weeks into the Fall semester, I’m beginning to wonder if the summer class was just that, a dream.  I know I’ve lamented the apathy of the younger generation before.  I didn’t think there was anything worse than apathy.  That, dear Innernetz, is incorrect.  You know what is worse than apathy?  Catatonia.

Catatonia is worse than apathy.  While the Head Honchos want to me to get the students fired up about inconsequential matters – anyone care for a I Heart NY pin? – I’m trying to get them interested in ANYTHING beyond their tiny little spheres of existence.  There’s a whole world outside their 18-year old, two and a half pound brains and I want them to grab it by the balls and make it scream!  But you know why they don’t?  You know why they say they are not going to vote, that they can’t be bothered to learn about the issues that affect them, that they don’t get involved in their communities, that they don’t protest against injustice and social inequality?  Because they don’t believe that one person can make a difference.

WTF?

I asked them if any of them had ever heard of the Unknown Rebel at Tiananmen Square.  Blank stares.  I refused to admit defeat at the hands of ignorance.  “On June 5, 1989, over a million students, teachers, and workers, ” I started in a low quiet voice.  I wanted them to have to lean forward to listen.  I wanted to have their undivided attention.  And I did.  By the time I was impersonating both the Unknown Rebel ("and he stood bravely in the face of certain death") and the tank drivers ("and they moved to the right but the rebel blocked their path") my shirt was untucked, my shoes were off and I was gesticulating wildy.  After my triumphant finish with a flourishing, “AND THE TANKS TURNED AROUND!” The room was silent.

A lone hand at the back of the class was raised. “Yes?” I responded secure in the knowledge that I had made my point.  “Did it change anything?” It was my turn to be silent.  I thought about it for a minute.  I thought about how sometimes big changes come about in small increments.

“We don’t know yet.”

Class dismissed.

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Update to the Naked MILF Sweepstakes:

Thanks, Innernetz!  Crissy has made it to the first page of the Hottest Mommy Blogger Page!  We only have a few hundred votes to go before Crissy has to post her ta-tas on her site wins wins and has to post her ta-tas on her site!  If you haven’t taken a look at the bribe Stoogepie has offered as incentive to vote,you are missing out on a fantastic opportunity to win:

Sony DSC-T300 Cyber-shot® 10-Megapixel Digital Camera - Silver — list price $499.99
Sony LCS-THM/B Genuine Black Leather Case — list price $49.99
Sandisk 4GB Memory Stick Pro Duo — list price $39.99. 
Photoshop CS3

Wait! Photoshop wasn’t included in your earlier post about this contest, you say.  Right-o, my observant Innernetz.  I talked to Stoogepie about his lame assed prize package and said that a REAL prize package would also include Photoshop CS3 because that’s what I would want to win.  Somehow, Stoogepie absconded with the goods found one lying around unopened and unused at work and is throwing that into the mix as well.  Yes, you can win a camera, a carrying case, a memory stick, AND Photoshop CS3.  All that, for the person whose vote is chosen at random by Stoogepie after the contest ends on or around October 16, 2008. 

But that’s not all….oh, no, my pretties.  Stoogepie is also offering a prize for the BLOGGER who pimps this contest and whose reader is the lucky bastard who claims the prizes listed above.  You know what the pimp gets?  Guess.  No, really.  Guess!  Okay, I’ll tell you.  The BLOGGER who pimps the contest and whose reader wins the camera/Photoshop package wins:

Sony HDRTG1 Handycam – list price $899.00.

That is just too fucking cool.  I want it Innernetz.  I want it bad.  So go vote.  Because you are not apathetic or catatonic.  Your vote can make the difference.  Your vote can make Dingo oh so happy.  And isn’t that what life is really all about?

Go see Stoogepie’s post for all the details.

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Crissy’s Boobies

I have several people to thank for awards I’ve received over the past several weeks (ahem, months) and I also want to whine and cry about a knee injury that’s going to have me off my feet and on ice packs and vicodin Advil for a week.  But you know, this blog isn’t all about me.  No, no really.  It isn’t.  It’s also about you, dear Innernetz!  You’ve been with me through thick and trying to be not so thick, in sickness and in health, outrages, plagiarists, and the general craziness that is my life.  I thank you.  To show my appreciation I am participating in a multiblog contest that is about rigging winning a contest.  A contest within a contest, how very Edgar Allan Poe, don’t you think?

Many of you know Crissy, The Queen of Fucking Everything.  For those of you who don’t, you’ve been missing out on one of the funniest bloggers around.  Crissy doesn’t pull any punches.  She may fart, plan the demise of cute garden-devouring critters, save drowning children, and plot to serve peanuts to her daughter’s pre-K class, but what Crissy doesn’t do is pull punches.  Oh, and she’s hot.  Hot.  Hot.  Hot.  And this is where you come in Innernetz.  Crissy is in the running for The Blogger’s Choice Awards Hottest Mommy Blogger and I want her to stomp Dooce into the ground win.  Now, before you get all misty-eyed thinking that I am oh so wonderful to pimp my bloggy friend, I have to tell you there’s an ulterior motive.

You see, several months ago Crissy made an offhand remark on her husband’s photo blog that if she won Hottest Mommy Blogger she would post a naked photo of herself on her site.  Now, tell me, when has a mommyblogger been such a ho so much fun? 

Get to the point, you say.  What’s in it for me, you ask.  Damn, Innernetz!  You are so impatient!  So here it is… you can win a Sony DSC-T300 Cyber-shot® 10-Megapixel Digital Camera - Silver — list price $499.99, A Sony LCS-THM/B Genuine Black Leather Case — list price $49.99, and a Sandisk 4GB Memory Stick Pro Duo — list price $39.99.  Yes!  All of that!  For one of you!

Ahhh, now I have your attention, don’t I?  All you have to do for a chance to win all this loot is to vote for Crissy for Hottest Mommy Blogger. How easy is that?!? Stoogepie originated this contest so check out his site (he’s an artistic genius) for the official rules.  BUT because this is a multiblog contest with several bloggers being Richard Gere to Crissy’s Julia Roberts, if you win this contest because you read about it on MY site, I get something too!  See, we’re all winners here in Dingo Land.  Vote now!

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