This is me checking in.
I have a thing about apologizing for not posting, so fuck that shit. You get what you’re given and you’ll like it or lump it, them’s the rules, that’s the blog.
But you know this, you know me. No surprises there, hey?
As a result, apparently the creative centre of my brain is enveloped in phlegm.
Some might call it “writer’s block”. I call it “writer’s phlegm chunks.”
It’s pretty sexy.
You’d do me. I know.
Even if I’ve spent days modelling a fine array of flannel. I do mean “days”.
So this is not an apology for not posting. It’s not a “come back for brilliance later” posting. It’s not even an excuse for why I’m not posting.
It’s just me. Sayin’ hey.
Hey, blog readers. [coff]
Pneumonia: Don’t do it. It so won’t get you laid.
Here’s a tip, if you’re ever sick and you hear gurgling when you breathe, that’s probably a bad thing. There’s drugs for that shit, dude. See your doctor and swallow that pride.
Anyhow, you know, I’m over here rockin’ the congestion and being generally as useless as I’ve ever been in my life. Which is to say I haven’t even begun to pay attention to Stupid Fucking American Politicians Winning Primaries on Anti-Masturbation Platforms, or the lawsuit against Vancouver’s Shark Club for making their female wait-staff always wear makeup, keep their hair down, and wear tight skirts.
But don’t think I won’t be commenting on them later.
‘Cos, you know, that shit’s not cool.
In the meantime, make sure you exercise your freedom to masturbate. Apparently it’s a great election platform these days.
Talk atcha later, readers. Thanks for hanging tight.