So ...

... I guess this means "I'm tired" isn't going to cut it as an excuse for not running tonight?

Way to go, dude. I officially have no outs for the next 73 years.

Suck it, stars!

Onion satire hitting too close to home. Yet again.

Scorpio October 24 - November 21
Cries of pleasure and ecstasy will fill your bedroom this Thursday, forcing you to bang on your ceiling with the end of a broomstick.

Well, isn't?

Reset button

I've never been as uninspired to write as I have been this past year. You'd think that life in New York would provide good blog fodder, but I guess that's only if your New York life involves things like "doing shit" and "leaving the apartment." Bummer.

I've once again found myself in the what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life stage. You know, the one that hits post-college and ends, oh, never? I thought that the very essence of a stage is that it's something you pass through and progress from, but apparently I've fallen into some crazy time warp that allows me to get only THIS FAR before sling-shotting me back to where I started.

Why can't I just be content? I have a good job, I make good money, I live in "the" city. But I hate it -- all of it. It's like blue cheese. It stinks like ass and it makes me throat-vomit.

This state of cluelessness and frustration lost it's appeal after I rounded the 25-mark, and I swear to the lord jebus above that if I don't have my shit figured out by 30, I'm becoming a carnie. Because at least there it won't matter if I don't have dental.

With love, from my Valentine

Love you, too, Teej.

Also

I met one of these guys this weekend when I was in CO visiting Big B. It's a Burnese Mountain Dog and I want one. They get pretty large (you should have seen this puppy's paws!), so I officially present reason #3,598 of why I should move out of the city.

Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries

I have three hours left of the workday before it's time to go home to put on the Hazmat suit. No, I'm not trekking down into the sewers or exposing myself to the plague, but I am going to be dealing with a hazardous material. Tonight I'm going to be in the same room with the one and only Clay "Freakboy" Aiken. I don't mean to be cruel, Clay, but you scare the bejesus out of me, and I definitely don't want to catch whatever it is that's floating around in your bloodstream. (T.J. also suggests I wear a condom, but since I have neither a penis nor the inclination to put one inside of Clay, I think the suit will be sufficient.)

Even though this guy(?) terrifies me to the point of nightmares, I'm excited to see the show (which I'm attending thanks to Alli's kind and generous parents). I've always loved Monty Python and have been itchin’ to see Spamalot, so I'm hoping it does the original Holy Grail justice. We shall see. I think a lot will depend on whether I can get over the fact that it's Clay, Clay AIKEN, who's up there dancing and singing on the stage.

*shudders*