Cause if it weren’t for them, I’d pretty much be out of bidness.

I still don’t have power. All of this because a fuse is dangling from the transformer. If someone would put it back in its little place, we’d be fine and dandy. Good luck getting anyone on the phone for that.

Thanks for the link love. I’m tired of Ike’s bullshit, for damn sure.

We’ll go in order.

NDBeasle: Thank you for the Ding-approved usage of all the many beautiful, descriptive ways on can use the word “fuck”. And also, for reminding me that I can watch old CSI: The Fuck? episodes on Hulu–in my excitement I’d forgotten this even existed. This was I think your finest comment ever.

Anthony: You Whose Name I Shall Forever Hear As Ant-Knee because I spent a year in Boston as a child. Thank you. The thought of you and NDBeasle getting together to send me a care package fills me with delight as well as laughter. Ole NDB would be all like “Here’s your ice cubes, hope ya like ‘em!” and you’d send me something sleekly functional to help de-stenchify my bathrooms, something very post-modern that also improves my understanding of 21st century art. I just know it.

Jenny: You truly are THE Bloggess. Which is why you’re so awesome! Thanks so much. We may take you up on that offer later in the week if we don’t get power. Could you imagine the ensuing hijinks? The dead miniature baby arms and tiny Tarot cards that would be found in our wake? I get chills thinking about it. The good kind.

I’ve been thinking about you these last 48 hours. Despite your obvious distress and discomfort, I am both glad and relieved to know that you and The Beyonce have survived Ike relatively unscathed. For sure, life will suck wrinkly donkey balls (can I borrow that line?) for a while. I’m really sorry about that. I don’t want you to suffer. No air conditioning? Not being able to flush after a poo?! Oh, heavens. As ndbeasle said, put out an all-call for care packages and amenity boxes if you need something or would like a little bit of joy to get you through the day. Please? Don’t be shy. Take care.

Well, fuck. At least the fucking one you’re fucking with doesn’t give a fuck how you fucking smell.

Let this fuck here in St. fucking Louis know what the fuck I can fucking do for you – like fucking FedEx a few fucking trays of ice fucking cubes or some other such fuckity-fuck.

I fucking love you and hope this fuckfest Ike fucking left you is fucking over fucking soon.

(…oh and CSI is on hulu.com.)