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—return with some proudly accomplished feat of unparalleled ignorance—then I disappear again. Reasons for this are unclear, I realize. And I am not insensitive to your need to observe from a safe distance, the self-depreciating acts of one less aware.
But, could it be that beyond these occasional incidents of curbside proposals and sexual propositions made by crossdressing hermaphrodites at the local supermarket (did I not tell you about that?) my life may just actually be normal?
I know. I, too, am flabbergasted. As one who proclaims her existence to be evidence of a Divine Cartoon Network, normal seems out of the question. But alas, I am quite boring.
See, if I wrote on a more regular basis, when compelled by the everyday beauties and follies of life, then for me, the act of writing would be intolerable; and for you reading would 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 along the lines of, "The Copy Machine is Resilient" and "Peeing and Other Understated Pleasures."
True, these are still the same senseless, unedited ramblings of an addled mind. But I still wish, above all else that your ventures into addled-mind readings, be pleasant.
So, to put it more succinctly, and to humorously echo a familiar line indicative of a relationship soon to be weighed down by the burden of one, or both, party's excrement: It's not you ... It's me.
Until later. Cheers.