Many of you have on multiple occasions, inquired about the seemingly lengthy time gaps between my blogs. I write. Disappear for a period of about thirty days. And then return with some proudly accomplished feat of unparalleled ignorance, and then I disappear again. Reasons for this are unclear, I realize. And I am not insensitive to your needs to embrace the self depreciating acts of one less aware.
But, could it possibly be that other than these occasional onsets of curbside proposals and sexual propositions made by cross-dressing hermaphrodites at the local supermarket (wait, I didn't tell you about that? Never the you mind then) that my life may just actually be (despite being the Divine Cartoon Network) normal?
I too am flabbergasted. However:
See, if I wrote on a more regular basis, when compelled by the everyday beauties and follies of life, then blogging for my sake would become presently more incomprehensible; and reading, for your own would be intolerable and border on the down right inhumane. Instead of "Humans are disgusting," a recent not so in depth look at bus terminal mating procedures, titles would become mundane and more like this: "The copy machine is resilient" and "Peeing: the understated pleasure."
Alas, not that these are anything other than the senseless, unedited ramblings of an addled mind. I simply, however, wish that above all else that your ventures into addled mind readings, be pleasant.
So, to put it more clearly, and to humorously echo a particularly familiar line indicative of a relationship soon to be weighed down by the burden of one or both of the party's excrement: it's not you ... it's me.
Until later. Cheers.