I see that the few dedicated hobo-lovers that still post here are up in arms over the lack of updates. Sorry holmes, but a melancholia has set in as my world crumbles around me. Everything’s right-as-rain on the home front– I couldn’t love my little peanut any more than I do– but aside from that the world is falling to dust.
Brewers: ousted. Badger football: balls. Packers: meh. My parlay cards: BAD! My weight: high. My bank account: low. My ebay feedback rating: so-so. My craigslist want ad: unanswered. My gainful employment: perhaps running out. My stock options: worthless.
Which is not to say that I had a bad 30th birthday. Spacebee did a wonderful job of tricking the living shit out of me. I am so stupid, I was on the Booze Cruise and still not eating anything because I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for the non-forthcoming dinner at the Tornado Room. The birthday tailgate was besieged by legions and legions of bees but we made the best of it. Thirty people: one stung, which is pretty good, but the one was a small child which wasn’t so great. He rubbed some metaphorical dirt on it and was on his way, though. Someday I’ll actually have all the pictures I took up on Flickr, and when that happens I’ll post a link in comments. Thanks to all who came (not you, CAL). Props and slops.
I’m thinking of buying a years supply of food. Can’t be too careful, seeing as America’s GDP now hovers somewhere around $12.50 + gratuity. Am I a paranoid sonuvabitch? Yes, most assuredly. But I also worried about a housing bust a-way back in 2005, and worried about the stock market a-way back in January 2008. Sometimes a paranoid motherfucker is right about shit. Sometimes.
I know you all come here solely for my wit and motherfucking wisdom, so I’ll try to post more. That is, if the mole men haven’t taken over the country yet of course.