I shall attempt to be brief.

There I was, doing my best to write something witty and comment worthy on my silly website, when what did I get for my troubles but a mid-afternoon phone call from a frantic client who needed me to fly out to New Orleans right now to save their buttinsky’s. So, after this worthy and exceptionally wealthy client agreed to throw substantially large sums of money at me to appease my monetary compensational needs, I packed an overnight bag, grabbed my computers and headed to the airport. When I landed I was met by a man holding a sign with my name on it, spelled incorrectly, of course, and he drove me to the hotel I would be spending the night in and, once checked in to said hotel, I went in search of my frantic and deep pocketed client.

Yada, yada, yada… I saved the day.

Being groveled to in public has never been my favorite means of receiving payment for services rendered, preferring as I do large sacks of coinage with immense green ‘$’ symbols emblazoned upon them, so whilst my afore-mentioned clients of largess were upon their knees in supplication to my Superman-like day saving skills, I hastily made my escape. I then went through the whole travelogue exercise I related to you above, but in reverse you understand, and have so come home yet again.

And home is now where I seem to be.

Which is all to say, in an abbreviated form, that I was unable to write yesterday not because of my own laziness, which you understand is not in question here for I am truly one of the worlds’ most lackadaisical and slovenly sloth-like lazy people, having once been so lacking in verve and, for lack of a better term, ‘gumption’, that I refused to move out of the way of a speeding automobile because doing so would be far too much like work, which will bring to mind once again that it was not my laziness that caused me to miss a day of writing, but my monetary need to be someplace else.

In other words; I didn’t write because I was busy. So bite me.
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I’m so damn tired.

Some of you may have been wondering where I’ve been these last few weeks. Some of you have even sent me email to congratulate me for finally realizing how unfunny I am and deciding to let the world’s pain end by allowing this pathetic excuse for a vanity website die. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint all of you, but this site isn’t dead yet.

I’m not dead either, although I do feel tired enough to be one of the walking dead.

Why am I damn tired? Maybe because I haven’t slept in, oh… three months, and I’ve barely even seen HoBiscuit since our wedding in January? But other than lack of sleep, money, sweet lovin’ and sanity, I’m just ducky, thankyouverymuch. Now, a lot of you people out there have expressed interest in my married life, some even going so far as to email me to ask, and I’m always happy to tell those people who ask how wonderful married life is and how happy I am to be married to such a beautiful and amazingly perfect woman like HoBiscuit.

And when she leaves the room I tell them the truth.

What’s the truth? The truth is that I don’t know how married life is because I haven’t seen my wife for longer than 72 hours in a row before I’ve had to get back on an airplane to fly to yet another city for yet another job. In fact, we haven’t even had a honeymoon, and I don’t believe we’ll have one until our one year anniversary because of all the work that I’ve been getting. I don’t normally talk about work here, but even though having work is a VERY GOOD THING for a freelancer, it’s still damn tiring to work non-stop for three months without weekends or days off.

Which brings me back to you.

Over the last two months I’ve been trying to update here as often as time allowed, and I thank all of you for bearing with the sporadic updates and horrendously unfunny posts during this time, but I’m happy to say that your suffering is almost at an end. In fact, I should be back to my regular schedule in just a couple of weeks, and to kick off my grand return to comedic normality I think I might have another contest to celebrate. The rules will be supplied at the end of this week and the winner will receive a prize so coveted and wondrous that people usually pay me huge sums of cash-moolah to provide it to them. Huh? No, no, no! Not that you sicko! I told you I don’t do that anymore. Not since the whole ‘green rash’ incident, I don’t.

How much? Hmmm… we’ll talk later. Privately.

Anywaste, what I’m talking about here is a website designed by yours truly. Something truly spunktacular and groovy made just for you. I’ll tell you all about the contest later this week, but for now I need to get ready for my next work related aneurism, which will be inflicted upon me this Saturday by the double whammy of Solonor and The House of Mouse. Yeah that’s right; I’m going back down to Orlando for some Bad Ass.

What?! I’m talking about coffee you freak, not Solonor!

I’ve lost the ability to speak.

My cold has been racing through my system, ravaging first my head with aches and pains, then my sinuses with clogging and dripping and now, finally, by attacking my throat and vocal cords with a paralyzing deluge of phlegm. No matter how many times I clear my throat I can’t seem to dislodge the cloying, silly-putty-like covering of mucus encasing it and it’s driving me crazy. Talking is impossible since no matter how hard I try all that comes out of my mouth are sounds one can only imagine might be made by a boy going through puberty trying to speak while gargling with Drain-o after swallowing an angry porcupine.

It’s also killing me how much HoBiscuit is enjoying my silence.

She keeps asking me questions she knows I want to answer; only to answer them herself in ways she knows will drive me insane. Want an example? Ok, she asks me questions like, “Would it be ok if I spent the money you were saving for the home theater’s new preamp/processor on new shoes for myself?” and then she’ll immediately answer herself in a the lowest, most manly voice she can muster with, “Of course not, Honey! You go buy your shoes because all I want is for you to be happy.” Then she just laughs and laughs and laughs until she cries. Which I guess is a good thing.

Why? Because when I remember that we’re together forever, I start crying too.

Stupid, stupid weather.

In case the title wasn’t enough of a hint, let me tell you all straight out that I’m sick. Apparently, while refusing to towel yourself off after a shower for fear of mind controlling rays from the government satellites in space may allow you to remember all the deep thoughts you concocted while soapy and wet, it will also lead to a runny nose, sudden chills and a tendency to sweat profusely while unable to keep warm. I hate being sick.

Can some kind soul email me some chicken soup? Please?

Overheard conversation of the decade.

Father:
“You’re not doing well in math because you don’t apply yourself.”

Son:
“But dad…”

Father:
“Don’t ‘But dad’ me. If you don’t do well in math you’ll never get anywhere in life. Don’t you want to be smart like your dad?”

Son:
“I guess.”

Father:
“Listen to me son, because I know what I’m talking about. There are only three kinds of people in this world, those who can count and those who can’t. Don’t be one of those, OK? OK?!”

Son:
“OK, dad. I promise.”

He promised? Promised what? Huh?! What?! What did he promise?!! What! Did! He! Promise?!?!?!?! ARGH!

*pop*

Ow. Somebody get me an aspirin and a mop please, my head exploded.