GFY. Noone has written on this here blog for quite some time, and with good reason. We barely have the will to get out of bed, or off the couch... or floor, every morning to greet the day of being a complete mess of a human and puked-in shadow of the aspirations of our youth, let alone tell the noone that reads this thing about it. Now the case magically disappeared, and we all have dick to do again, and staring at the internet all day is like looking directly into your soul to see what you really are: A brown (empty) box with tattered tape surrounding it, a used FedEx label and nothing inside. Ahh, introspection. Sitting in a room full of boxes full of shit I could give two shits about, with more boxes sitting in the hallway with stuff I care even less about, that need to be sent to the room at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, is really f'ing depressing! It's true. And writing about it blows.
I need to club a seal. And drink.
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