Heaven is a Hot Water Bottle

I have long held this belief. In lieu of having my personal space invaded by some person of either gender after an evening of romper room activities, I've found a hot water bottle at the bottom of the bed lends all the warmth a security this girl need. Add in a little D'Angelo or Prince and I've transcended mere humanity and elevated to the rarified air of gods and goddesses.

Here is a question, instead of clinging to the obviously self-destructive Marvin Gaye archetype, why didn't D'Angelo just get a perm and go the Prince megalomaniac route? Prince is still around, I still scream like a damn fool when his music is on or he is in concert, he's a sharp businessman with heart for his predecessors (artists from the 70s and 80s are able to record at his Paisley Park studios gratis) and barring that unfortunate bare-assed yellow ensemble a few years ago, he's generally a very sharp dresser, though I have preference for his renaissance period a la Purple Rain and When Doves Cry.

And this is something really cool from Neil Gaiman's blog: http://www.dylanhearsawho.com/home.htm

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I hope the picture shows up. I've never tried with blogger.com to insert a picture.