Oh hey it is. And you're still around? Well. Alright then. Thank you.
Somebody screw in one of those new curly-looking lightbulbs, and dust off that beanbag in the corner. Switch on the lava lamp, and open a window. Let me see what I can find...what's been going on...
Besides the "kid with a tail" video on YouTube?
Besides having Celebrity-ish Dreams almost every night starring John Cusack, Stephen Merchant, William Shatner, and a few other random ones I've forgotten by now?
Besides not checking my email...?
Besides stepping on my last, remaining pair of glasses, squinting a lot, watching the bad cat pop my third Pilates ball chair, spending way too much time at agkidzone and KEWLopolis watching Sushi Pack and Tinpo, crawling into bed every night with an abnormal amount of anticipated delight by the promise of sleeping way beyond normal limits, exhuming myself from the parallel universe in the morning with a less-than-Zen-like ritual involving a one-hour struggle beginning every 5:55 a.m., drinking copious amounts of Monster Lo-Carb Hi-Energy without measured results...besides dreaming away over several mind-blasting, soul-altering, culturally exorbitant, lush trips to The Excelsior Hotel Ernst in Cologne, you know, right across the street from the Gothic Cathedral with its artwork made of human bones, all down the way from a pristine stainless-steel and glass chocolate factory and glittering glockenspiel...besides rewatching every episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia twice...
Besides somehow, developing two unexplained and undesirable habits of chewing on Atomic Fireballs all day and frozen Trolli gummi bears at night?
Not much else outside of the set normal range. But I have cut my trips to the Ghetto Kroger in half, which is the only thing I could complain about (besides not being able to hang with Kevin at the art gallery)--about not cooking as much as I want to lately. As Principal Executive Pot-Licker and Empty Plate Inspector, the dog's fairly shaken up by that sad development, too. Like the rest of it, I'm pulling up the proverbial bootstraps and getting back on that horse.
Not that you should ever really mention "cooking" and "horses" in the same sentence, unless you're in an upscale, 5-star restaurant on a private vineyard in France.
What else has been going on...oh, the usual stuff like Googie got pancreatitis and the new nickname, "Baby Grand", based on his vet bill. But hey, you know I'd get an extra job doing something useless like delivering phone books or working at an ad agency in Memphis to keep his motor running smoothly. But I'd get fired because I'd just take all the phone books to the recycling bin instead.
Aw, you know me, you really know me.
What else has happened...well, damn near a lot of things. If you feel like hanging out for awhile, I need to scribble here again in the margins to myself, in between the sleeping part, the working at a place I absolutely love part with people I really love more part, but missing my mother back home part, not reading enough real books part, but along the way finding enough junk online to keep us all busy until all the beanbags go flat...part.
Oh hey, in front of me and not in a Celebrity-ish Dream: honk if you saw Marlo Thomas the other day. Just me then? Oddly enough, after that, everything seemed back to normal.
Be back soon, with photos. No, really.