Oh yeah, I forgot to say, welcome to my blog. I did a lot of work on the bells and whistles of this page before I actually decided to put any real content up, so that’s my bad. I guarantee that I will write some gems now and again. I live a full life, I only have one regret (which I’ll get around to writing about some day. It has to do with a shower . . . I’ll leave that one up to the imagination), and I don’t pull any punches. Anyone who knows me can attest to that.

I already told my parents about this site, which I am kind of apprehensive about, but fuck it, I’m gonna say what I wanna say, and they’ll still love me. My dad will never read this crap anyway, he’s too busy playing Tennis and Snood (he plays real live tennis). Please bear with me while I get over my parenthesis fetish; I have a tendency to overuse them, sometimes inappropriately. I often put punctuation inside them, which I know is a faux pas, but until I can figure out a better way to convey my thoughts it the time it takes to hold shift and press 9 and 0, let it slide.

That was my disclaimer. Off to the right, there’s a search, a referral bar, and that’s also where you’ll see my version of the (un)sung heroes of the web. I read their columns/view their sites and laugh, learn about new things, ponder interesting situations that they have screwed themselves into, in general, I just take it all in. I could be outside, but whatever I’m doing is good enough for me at the present time. On the left is where you can learn my likes and dislikes, some advice I can give because I’ve lived it (oh you crazy 22-year-old, you have so much to learn), some pictures of my friends and I. Basically just more about me as a person and not just an online entity. Why you’d want to do this is beyond me at this point, but soon enough, I will be writing scintillating social commentary that will tear at your heartstrings, or a timeless story of love and betrayal when three couples are thrown together, their lives in upheaval, where only two will make it through the journey alive . . . I’m trying too hard. I’m also trying to carry every thought in my head to a melodramitic comedic fruition, which doesn’t work too well when you’ve been up schlepping your resume to temp service autoreply e-mail bins since 9AM.

I’d like to have a relationship with my readers. You can leave the seat up, (I never do, though. You get shitspray. E-coli travels up to 4 feet in any direction when that bowl is flushed, yecch. See what I mean about the parenthesis? The thing is, I want you to go back to the original thought of ‘You can leave the seat up comma’ when you leave the parentheses, but I’ve written too much inside here for it to flow like that. DAMN! Maybe I just need to learn how to segue better . . . ‘You can leave the seat up,’) you can leave your coat on the sofa, but when you cut up a poppyseed bagel, clean up the stray poppyseeds; I like to walk around in bare feet and hate tracking poppy all over the house.

God. In the words of the immortal comic-book-guy; WORST BLOG EVER.

On a lighter note, I called that lady back. I admit I lied. It went better than expected.