These are posts that will go in the blog, under the slider
Tomorrow I leave for Peoria to spend with the weekend with my parents. Mother’s Day and all.
While I was catching up on some stuff tonight, I realized I hadn’t packed. This isn’t a big trip – just three hours by car. I have to put some food and water out for the cat, put clothes in my little suitcase thing, and pack up the computer. Also, I’m bringing the dog, so a few of her things.
Yes. I’m talking about you.
(I address my bicycle as “you”.)
I know. That was dumb. And made you feel uncomfortable for a moment. Especially if you’re a dude. Well, I guess maybe not all dudes would have felt uncomfortable. Certain ones.
I probably get four headaches a year. I think the weather has something to do with it, and maybe it’s a rain humidity thing. Who knows.
Note – I ended that with a period, not a question mark, as I don’t really care for the answer.
I’ve been working to develop something very unique and exciting (at least to me – maybe only me) for this blog. This is something that has been discussed for over six months, and I’m getting ready to start production. There’s still a chance it might not happen, but I’m confident that we can get it completed.
I woke up to write this to you. I’d much rather still be asleep dreaming of stewardesses sitting atop my lap.
That shows you how dated my references are. There hasn’t been a young and attractive stewardess on a commercial flight since 1983.
I tweeted this out hours ago, and I’m sorry about the repeat. But this is still making me laugh. And I mean out loud. Right now.
The other day I wrote about my biggest fan – she had read every one of my words within eight hours. While I admire her devotion and I love her for her effort, she is not my favorite fan.
On Tuesday my mom informed me that she was going to spend the next night at my condo. I was treating her to The Iceman Cometh here in Chicago and since the play is five hours long, she wasn’t going to drive home afterwards.
Because I didn’t want my mom to see how I really live, I went on Craigslist to find a housekeeper that could come over that evening. After sending out about ten requests, I finally got a hit.
I see a therapist once a week. And while nobody would describe me as “nuts” (Well, maybe a few people would. Like Steve. But Steve’s the one who’s nuts. You hear me Steve? You’re nuts!! Nuts!!!), I still have a number of issues. Everyone who knows me would most likely agree. I mean, I write a blog, for chrissakes. Nobody without issues writes a blog. Sorry to every other blogger who reads this. You’re included.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
