Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Saturday, January 1, 2011

OK, I think I'm still alive

I have a vague recollection of writing this a.m.'s blog.
Vague recollection. I think I was still fucked up. However, I have slept another six hours, eaten food, and am now thinking and functioning. And had some Pepsi Throw-back (so no HFCS reaction; I cannot face a hangover without Pepsi).
And have to make a LOT of decisions over the next two days.
BIG decisions. Like about packing up and moving out of Boston this month.
Yeah, you read that correctly.
I have a chance to escape. I think I'm going to take it. It's temporary, but a temporary respite is still a respite.
Wow.
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