Based on some recent feedback, I feel the need to clarify a couple of things. My random thoughts for the week are NOT to be taken seriously. I’d like to set the record straight and spell out a couple of clarifications for anyone who may be concerned about my general well being and/or mental stability:

(1) As much as this may disappoint some of you, I have no intention of drinking cyanide spiked Gatorade. It was a tasteless, unacceptable joke. I send my sincere apologies to anyone who has had a family member or loved one pass because of cyanide or Gatorade. Please forgive me. I’d also like to thank my publicist, who wrote the above apology as I helplessly laughed at my own joke.

(2) James, Ricky and I did not hold an official, public event to crown the sexiest guy in Kansas City. So, before you berate me w/ profanity laced messages, you did not get an invite because there was nothing to invite you to. If you’d like us to Photoshop you into a picture with the three of us, please send a self-addressed, stamped envelope with $25 to: 8932 Noland Rd., Lenexa, KS, 66215. Also, please let us know what mental facility you are housed at so we can donate your generous contribution back to the doctors who are desperately trying to help you.

(3) Kansas City is not really able to audibly communicate. It’s a land mass. While it does not possess an ocean, mountains or any desirable qualities, it also does not have a mouth, vocal chords or a brain. No, I wasn’t taking acid or any other drug when I heard Kansas City speak. Again, my publicist apologizes for the confusion. I mean, I apologize for the confusion. Right. And, the ambulance visits to my house on my behalf were neither tasteful nor funny. Please stop. Thank you.

I received several hundred emails from my loyal fan base this week asking me to talk about something jovial for once. While I’m still not sure what that word means, I did use the Thesaurus tool in Word to get a better understanding. It appears that my random thoughts tend to be a little on the negative side. While I surely don’t want to be responsible for any new prescriptions to Zoloft or decreasing serotonin levels in any of my readers brains, I present to you a top 3 list of things that make me feel “jovial”:

(1) Chapstick. I love chapstick like Britney Spears should love birth control pills. In the case that Jennifer Love Hewitt got married to her “not Jason Riley” boyfriend, Hillary Clinton won the presidency and the Lakers packed up and moved to Kazakhstan, I would ease my pain by purchasing 75,000 tubes of chapstick, melting them down into my bath tub and diving in headfirst… naked. Yes, naked. (Pausing for mental image to develop). I can’t believe you guys just pictured this. You’re disgusting. … These are my readers. Just remember, you asked for this.

(2) Cheese. As in, cheesy romantic movies. Sure, these movies were written solely for single, middle-aged chicks in sweat pants sitting on the couch w/ a shovel and an 8 pound ocean of ice cream. But still, I cannot help myself. While I’ve eaten a lot of soy burgers in my life and there does seem to be an unusual amount of estrogen floating around our house, I have no explanation for this. There’s just nothing better than throwing on some sweats, grabbing a tub of ice cream, and sitting down on the couch to watch Jerry Maguire or She’s All That. … Oh my god. I’m a single, middle-aged chick. Mental note: Don’t publish the above paragraph. Think man points Jason; you need ‘em. Crap.

(3) Jennifer Love Hewitt. On a fateful night in 9^th grade, I journeyed to the movie theatre w/ a girl to be named never to watch, “Can’t Hardly Wait”. Little did I know that I would never be the same person again. I sat and drooled on myself for two hours as Jennifer Love absolutely torched every definition of “hot” I had ever thought I understood. Here I am, ten years later, still drooling on myself every time “Ghost Whisperer” comes on. In the case that God shined favorably upon me & I bumped into her on Rodeo Dr., the conversation might go something like this:

J-Love: I’m sorry, excuse me.
J-Ri: You I love do. I mean, I love you.
J-Love: … Do you need a bib?
J-Ri: (wipes drool) No, but I love you do. Dangit! I’ve rehearsed this.
J-Love: Rehearsed what?
J-Ri: (wipes more drool) Get it together Riley! … Rehearsed telling you I loved you.
J-Love: Ah, that’s sweet. Where are your parents? Let’s go find them. Maybe they’ll have your wheelchair.
J-Ri: (Sprints into on-coming traffic)

Ok, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. We’ll find out when I meet her. Ha! Optimism. Isn’t that what all you guys wanted? Delivered. You’re welcome

A note from the author: While I realize that I have bunny trailed away from the original theme of my random thoughts, I felt it necessary to respond to some reader feedback and clarify a few things before we collectively move forward with real issues and stories. And, for the record, I would never sprint into on-coming traffic.

Thank you for your continued support & financial contributions. They are greatly needed and somewhat appreciated.