I iz not dead.

Holy shitballs, I haven't typed anything in like forevah! My sincerest apologies to all my fans (both of them) and the unwashed masses that have been trying so hard to find me. You can take a bath now, I'm back.

Somehow all the planets got unaligned, and my chi got way messed up. I managed to make it through the days and the nights, but not without sacrificing time from some of the things I would rather be doing. Like writing here. Or tweezing my eyebrows. So now, other than looking like Brooke Shields circa 1985, I have straightened my ass up and gotten back to what I WANT to do, rather than what I HAVE to to do.

I have kept a handy lists of things that I plan on writing about while I was busy doing other things. It's a list compromised of things like "the house is trying to kill me" and "has my ass always been shaped like this?", along with such chilling commentary as "how hard would I punch each one of my employees on a scale of 1-10". I know, real cliff-hangers, eh?

Give me a day or so to catch me breath and I will be back to tell you all about how my cat is and asshole and why you should never give birth to babies with big heads.

**Side note: I have just mailed out some disposable cameras to friends with instructions to take one picture and mail it to another friend. Last frame sends it back to me. Stay tuned to see me get kicked out of WalMart for trying to develop pictures that are sure to be NOT PG-rated.

For my friends

I have two dear friends that are struggling with an illness in their family right now and my heart goes out to them. Everyone should have the priviledge of knowing people like these two. One is a bestest friend ever from waaaay back and the other is her brother. (They have another brother also that I love more than Prada purses, but I'm closer emotionally to these two.)



Several times each day something crosses my mind that reminds me of one or the other. The smile of a friend, a terribly, horribly tacky joke, my kids laughing about some bone-head thing their mother did AGAIN...



I have something in common with these two. Each of us, at some point in our lives, has had to teach ourselves to be happy. Each of us has battled our own personal hell and emerged from the other side scarred and wiser. We have learned to laugh again by leaning on each other.



My shall-remain-anonymous girl friend is an art teacher for elementary school children. Egad, that alone should qualify her for sainthood. Can you imagine a billion nasal-y grade-schoolers all screaming for a red crayon at once. I just threw up in my mouth a little.



The other shall-remain-anonymous friend is a student, and care-giver, and all around truly funny, funny guy. His brain worked in mysteriously twisted ways. Top in his class of cleverness. He has an outlook on life that is inspiring.



It hurts me to see them struggle with this. No, that doesn't explain it just right. I want to wish away their problems, because wonderful people should only have wonderful lives filled with joy and uncorns and pixies and chocolate covered joy. Granted, that sounds a tad unrealistic, but what the hell, it's my wish and I can wish whatever I want.



In real life, I can listen to them, and occasionally make them laugh. I can tell silly stories and make fart noises with my arm-pit. (It's a family trait.) I can offer any lame advice that I may come up with and use any relevant experiences from my past to ease their fears. I can pray for their sick family member. I can distract and entertain and love them. I can be a friend. Just like they have been to me.