What Fresh Hell is This?

Third night in a row to wake having a panic attack. Ripping!! I should have been a hairdresser. I'd be making more money and would have a fraction of the stress I'm enjoying today.

Merry Fucking Christmas!

What Fresh Hell is this?

I’m changing my headline. Not that anyone has even looked at this blog, but hey, what can I do? I like the science tag that was previously up, but most people would have no idea what it meant even if they were able to figure out what it all was in the first place. For the record, OSiAlFeCaNaKMg is a list of the 8 most abundant elements in the earth’s crust in order of abundance. Guess what kind of scientist I am! So my goal here is to submit an entry a couple of times a week and see what sort of web hullabaloo I can anonomously create. In the greater scheme of things, I'm really bad about following through with this sort of thing, so we'll just have to wait it out and time will tell if I can get my shit together enough to make this happen.

My new mantra: I am a good dung-beetle! I'm keeping my shit together.

In the meantime, I'd better get my big ol' beaner bootie to the office. I can already tell that this week will be a humdinger.

Big cyber-kiss to anyone who can tell me what literary great would answer the phone with the query from this post's title.

Sunday... We meet again...

Why must it be so impossible to get going on a Sunday morning? Don't answer that. I'm being rhetorical. I think it has something to do with subsisting on vodka tonics and hot wings yesterday. Probably unwise, but a good time. Today I'll have to do something tremendous and humanitarian to make up for my transgressions of yesterday.

Yesterday was the big sporting event of the year... perhaps of all history... for college sports... football in particular. That would be the Ohio State vs University of Michigan game. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't give a fine pink beet-induced shit about college sports, but some perfectly respectable and intellectually superior grown men I knew were in tears over the outcome. It was a sad state of affairs. I did the only logical thing I could think of to do in such a situation: I ordered another round and I went home and baked consolation cookies. As a result, I can't tell if the headache I'm suffering today is a sugar or booze hangover. Never let it be said that I am anything short of an exceptional friend.

Moving on.

Should today be a day I troll for fellers on Match.com or my favorite bondage site? I need a date. Watching grown men beating the snot out of each other on the gridiron makes me think that: a) I need me some Y-chromosome action and b) the bondage site will probably produce something appropriate to my appetites right now.

Over and out.