Help! I've Fallen (Into A Vortex Of Time Suck) And I Can't Get Up!
or when did the days shorten to 12 hours?!?

Okay, so WTF!?!

So much happened on our vacation which I'd like to share with all two of you, but I seem to have stumbled into some sort of Holiday Season Sinkhole (I said "hole") without a safety rope and have absolutely no substantial length of time in which to copiously write the mind blowing (aka, boring) details.

I'm still struggling to find time to export all the frelling.. er, I mean outstanding videos from our five concerts shot during one of the greatest vacations EVAH.

Y'all get that I'm a fan of hyperbole, right? So, yeah it's probably best to take what I say with a grain of salt. Don't rely on my disjointed ramblings to help you get off the extra Christmas meds. Speaking of meds, I could use one or ten about now. I'm slipping into my own Festivus frenzy, and may harm a garden gnome if I don't at least get a tall boy going here soon.

But seriously, entertaining things happened on vacation, but at this rate I'm afraid my peepee, bullet-hole riddled, peri-menopausal mind won't be able to remember the events. Details are already starting to fade. Plus, it's our turn to host the family Christmas Eve party, but the house is a nightmare of crap piles which are waxing instead of waning, there are parties and socials up the yin yang and then there's the whole "work" thing... I know daylight is getting shorter, but when did the actual 24 hour day get trimmed back by half?

AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!!??!?!?!?!!!!

Okay, I feel a little better now. They're family and friends so they'll understand the mess, right? As long as we have the liquor cabinet stocked--Crap!! Now I have to fight the crowds at the State Store to load up on hooch. Son of a Bey-atch!

Anyway, this was supposed to be a small post explaining my absence, but I obviously got lost and turned the corner onto Bitch Fest Lane. Sorry. Clearly I need Felicity's help even in my mental travels.

Bottom line is ... once the madness is over, I got some tales to tell, y'all.

What The??!?
or was there some kind of time shift whilst I slept?


Okay, so last week when I left for vacation, this little ole blog 'o mine had around 2,500 hits. Not a bad showing for someone of no notoriety. Most of the clicks came from a few family members (thanks Geo and Weez) and a small but loyal collection of friends. (By the way, your "thank-you-for-not-making-me-look-like-a-loser" checks will be in the mail. Promise.)


So imagine my surprise when I got home seven days later, logged on to read the head count (What? I like to see if anyone checks in on me. I know it's queer. I'm kinda vain that way...Shut up!) and was greeted with the astronomical number of 11,900 clicks!!?!

Holy Crap!

What the hell happened while I was away? Did I fall into some sort of Rip Van Winkle time warp thingie and it's really, like 3 years later? (Let's see ... 11,900 divided by 3 = 3,633 hits/year...not a bad showing for a schlub) Or perhaps it's just some sort of George W, cocaine-fueled, fuzzy math. Like the counter went on a gin-soaked, lost weekend while I was away and decided to be magnanimous by multiplying each hit by a thousand just to stroke my ego... or dick with me.

Whatever. I'll take it.

My thanks to those readers (either phantom or real) for the outstanding week. You guys rock!

Wait a minute... Now I guess this means I have to get cracking and write something actually entertaining.

*crap*

Excuses Excuses 

or reasons for my blogging lameness of late 

Okay, so you know how when you decide to start an exercise regimen and you're all gung ho at the start and you get up every morning much earlier than any human with any sense should rise and you dawn your work-out clothes and jump on the treadmill and lift weights and sweat and actually start to feel stronger as the days pass? This lasts about, oh..two to three months. 

Then you go on vacation. 

Kiss of death. And when you come back you just can't seem to get back into the swing of things because on vacation you ate what you wanted, when you wanted, slept in till whenever because you weren't about to get up early to exercise since you were up late socializing over cocktails with friends and family...

Yeah, blogging apparently is like that. For me anyway. 

When I began this ramble-fest last October, it felt like that initial rush of adrenaline you get from the start of an exercise routine, only my writing muscle was the thing being flexed and pumped full of blood. The flood gates of my imagination were flung wide open, and I literally could not sleep in for all the ideas, notions and observations gushing forth. I would wake to postings whispered in my ear from my newly rejuvenated subconscious. 

The effortlessness of the process was incredibly thrilling and satisfying not to mention intoxicating. (Seriously. You should go back to the beginning and read some of the entries. They were much better than this recent lot. Except for Rhett Fest)

Then I went on a "vacation" of sorts. Between physical therapy twice a week (I've got back/hip issues, don't ask.), literally going to the gym and Pilates classes multiple times per week, getting home later from work and making dinner (a task from which Geo reminds me I've also vacationed of late. Okay, he's right on that one, so I can't use that as an excuse..even though I will. Hey, it's my blog.) I've unintentionally taken a break from jotting entertaining tidbits and what have you.

Now my discipline has dissolved. Well is dry. Done. Finished. Finito. The flashing cursor mocks me for the wordless loser I am. Now I hunch over this keyboard, sweaty palms, blank stare, numb mind. Waiting for something ... anything to inspire.    

If only someone would invent a microchip that could be implanted in my head to record my thoughts as they scroll through the wasteland of my mind. That would be so SWEET! Seriously. I can't tell you how many brilliant blog entries have slipped through my figurative fingers while driving for lack of pen and paper... and the whole having-to-drive-with-two-hands thing. Kinda crucial for, you know, surviving travels through the high-speed, urban jungle.

Dear Science Nerds:

Please get on that microchip thingie ASAP. 

Thanks!

Now I have to leave to, you guessed it.. hit the gym yet again. The worst part is the pain hasn't subsided much, and it's not like I'm getting that much more svelte. WTF?

Enough belly-aching and lame excuses. A friend of mine recently pointed out this peculiarity from the "Warnings" posted on the back of every toothpaste tube. 

Wha...?

Okay, first of all...who ingests a bunch of toothpaste on purpose? And second...what the HELL is in this stuff that's so poisonous?!?!?!

Death By Toothpaste. 

Wouldn't that be the lamest demise EVER?