Delta Hotel and I are watching Dateline NBC, the third part in a series about internet sexual predators. What can I say? If I've never been in a man-hatin' frame of mind before, it's hard not to be viewing the cross section of perverts on this show. There's nothing worse than a crime against a child. It's probably a good thing that I don't run the show because I don't think I'd be so big on rehabilitating these freaks. I think I'd take away the offending body part and call it a day. I'm in the middle of a hormonal tsunami, so it's probably better that I DON"T rant right now. Besides, I'm too busy daydreaming about what I could accomplish along side these sheriffs arresting the predators, if only I had a good sharp pair of pruning shears.

I know it's not healthy or productive or really life if you live inside a little cubbyhole of fear. (Or in my case, from inside a gallon jug of Hater-ade) But you can bet your sandwich that if any of my kids feel the need to create a MySpace account, or any other "teen" chatroom account, these eyes will be watching it.

I think I need to take my dog for a walk.