One of my closest friends, who really knows better than to read this blog, sort of took me aside yesterday, and, to put it bluntly, he asked me what the fuck was going on lately. Actually, this was more of a rhetorical question, since he pretty much knows what has climbed up my ass, but he is quite concerned by the fact that I’ve “been writing as if possessed by Denis Leary.”
Actually, I’m not sure if there is a proper response to that statement, but I was totally shooting for something more along the lines of Lenny Bruce, although I am rather relieved that the name “Dane Cook” has yet to be mentioned. Still, my boobs are much more impressive than those of Denis Leary.
Kidding on that last paragraph. Seriously. Except, you know, about the boobs.
Sigh. Without really mentioning any details about personal stuff (because it’s not gonna happen), I’ve been coping with a loss of sorts for the past weekish, and, obviously, I’ve taken a grand tour of the Kübler-Ross stages. Point taken though.
