The Quiz Post & Miniature Golf

The personality defect quiz post is annoying; it's too long, and every time I try to edit it down to a reasonable length it gives me HTML errors. So I might just delete it. Or not. It was a good quiz. Edited note: I tried to change it & apparently somehow I screwed up the sidebar. It's now down at the bottom of the page. Fuck. New edited note: I deleted it. FWIW, I am a starving artist & if you want to take the quiz yourself, you can find it here.

In other news, in a weekend of family fun my children and I went to play putt-putt on Saturday afternoon. I love miniature golf courses; I think I've come up with a lifetime goal (that's a first) to go & play at every single one in Ocean City, Maryland. There are like 2 million mini golf courses in Ocean City so this is a lofty goal of high ambition. My other goal would be to transform my backyard into a mini golf course, or just to live on one that's already constructed. They're so crazy and beautiful and kind of heart rending in a very strange vanished american dream way. I tried researching them once (our trip to Gatlinburg a year & a half ago got me going on them again; we played one inside a big warehouse with a mysterious yet enchanting Egyptian Gods Meet Pirates theme) because I've always wondered where they came from. It seems like such a peculiar idea: build a putting green and surround it with. . anything, really; giant plaster flamingo? Check. Pirate ship? Check. Dinosaur, rocket ship and huge spider? Check - anything goes in the landscape of the miniature golf course. The histories I found were academic and boring, and, although it's hard to believe, there doesn't seem to be a glossy coffee table book on miniature golf. A niche market waiting for me to fill it. I would also like to revive the commercials that used to air in South Carolina with the oddly compelling jingle: Putt putt for the fun of it, putt putt for the fun of it, putt putt for the fun of it! My teenage boyfriend used to sing fuck fuck for the fun of it! which was, obviously, extremely daring and bad boy-ish of him, and also oddly compelling.

M can't extend his elbow and I'm worried; the doctor is supposed to call me tomorrow. If the doctor screwed up & did something wrong during the surgery I will roast him over a slow fire; after, that is, I sue him, the hospital and possibly the universe for A MILLION DOLLARS. At least. Hey malpractice suits! If the Bush administration wants them to go away, they must be good!