Does Cindy Sheehan give you the willys? Ugh, man it’s like walking in the woods at night and seeing two eyes lit up by the moon, and you have no way of knowing how big the animal is; it could be a little mouse, but it could also be a rabid, giant rat-monkey. That feeling, agh, nasty. I have goose bumps, and not the good getting-my-nipples-licked kind (that doesn’t do anything for me, or most guys, but if there’s a little air flow in the room you can’t help but get the chills).

Anyway, Sheehan cut her month long vacation (must be f’n nice) short so she could hang out in Martha’s Vineyard to pretend Obama give a crap that she’s saying things nearby.

Nope! Can’t do it. Read for yourself. I can’t even write about her. She makes me want to rake my face off with a spork.

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