And You Can Tell Everybody ... This Blog is For You ....
Leave it to Pops to force me out of kinda-but-not-really-retirement by becoming the latest victim of Sir Robin-itis. He's off to become a real writer, make shitloads of money, and eat peanut butter off the rippling abs of ... rippling worshippers of writers with shitloads of money. I had that dream, meself ... (only without the peanut butter. Eww.) I was making moves toward that ... then I suddenly started to suck.
Not that this post is any great shakes, but I used to be ... oh, I don't know ... funny? Then suddenly, I wasn't so much anymore. I don't know what happened exactly, but my posts were just downright shitty. Then I got bored. Then I got all involved in the real world, and started making conversations with people with actual faces in place of blogsites, and things just got all weird after that. You start off having conversations, then you start making lunch dates, showering on a regular basis and changing your clothes daily ... What the hell was I thinking?
So, I'm back, bitches. Pops can just go off and make a million dollars and eventually be mowed down by a minivan, (I wish him the best of luck, though. Bastard.), I'll still be here.
I may not even suck so much. Anything is possible.