No, I can't get you a prostitute or some Hash!

Yes, I am going to Amsterdam. No, I can't get you a prostitute or some hash!
Almost all of my friends have requested one or both of these items in jest when I have asked them what they want me to bring them back from Amsterdam. Sheesh, Americans have no imagination. I am certain there is more to Amsterdam that drugs, hippies and sex for sale.Some of the things I am bringing back: tulip bulbs, cheese, cigars, erotic photography, magnets, sex toys (if I see something different that I haven't tried yet). Postcards, I need to send over 50.

I want to make this posting short and sweet.
I realized my very lengthy post this morning was way too pedantic/wordy and self-important. When I re-read it I felt a headache coming on.

As a comedic counterpoint I'd like to share what occured when I finally got up from sitting and typing for about 2 1/2 hours (dear god it really did take me that long to research and write those puny little sentences).

I got up from the computer and walked across the room to the bathroom and realized there was something funny about my left pant leg. I am wearing a new pair of jeans that I also wore yesterday. I woke up and put the jeans on and grabbed a shirt and started working on the computer.
So what, you ask, was wrong with my pant leg? I reached in there and pulled out yesterday's underwear. I laughed so hard I almost fell over. So much for Goddesses and Demons, I can't even sort out my own pant legs!

Have a crazy chaotic human day! I'll write you Thursday from Amsterdam!