And this, dear readers, is what we call...

My 400th post here in the B-World Blog. Holy crap.

It's taken me almost four years to get here. That's four hurricanes, four digital cameras, three jobs, three Gator National Championship titles, countless threats of bitchslapping, $240 worth of pudding, one amazing fiance, and one timeless joke about the Greek Army, to get to right here, right now. Yikes.

The irony of me going through yet another one of my fabulous writer's-block-it's-just-a-dry-spell-no-inspiration-to-be-had-bullshit episodes is not lost on me, friends.

I try to think about why I've been so neglectful of writing here. Someone told me once that sometimes you stop writing in your blog or your journal because things are going so well that you don't have anything to write about. I don't know if I agree with that. Sure, I've been known to fire off a missive when I'm feeling particularly riled about something, or when I feel the intense need to over-share. Sometimes, absolutely small, crazy, and wonderful things happen, and I want to write about those, too.

But I don't.

Then I peek at all those wonderful blog writers who have allowed me to come into their world for a few brief moments every so often, whose voices I can hear in my head when I see their written words, and I'm so inspired!

Then I don't do shit.

On the plus side, things are going pretty well.

Work has been very calm the past couple of months, since the ouster of our biggest "issue" here. Wedding plans are chugging along, and I am just pretty much telling my mom to get all crazygonuts if she wants, but I am still keeping final word on certain things. The stress is just not worth it, and heck, I think it gives her joy to be doing this.

Maybe it's true: I can't write because there's nothing for me to bitch about.

Or I just haven't figured out how to highlight the good stuff, to write about it in a way that truly conveys what's going on, and have it make sense.

Any suggestions on how to do that?

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Excuses.

Oddly enough, I don't have any really good ones for being absent so long (yet again)... I thought of perhaps taking the stance that my web silence was in quiet support of the striking writers; but we all know that one has absolutely nothing to do with the other, and it would also mean I'm taking my verbal shenanigans way too seriously. So, out of respect for striking writers, I will not use them as my convenient excuse for blog slacking.


Again, they have nothing to do with my laziness.

Instead, I shall explain away my lack of blog effort on footbaw(!), work, family, my new mp3 player, and life in general.


Me, as recently as four hours ago.

Now that I have established myself in an office almost all my own (I share with one of the doctors two days a week), I may be able to sneak in a post once in a while, assuming the mood strikes.

For now, I'm off to have my fourth can of Sprite Zero since I got here this morning. It's like Hades in here.

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So much to say...

So little time at work to sneak in a blog post, and once I get said time, I forget what the hell there is to say. Getting old totally sucks.

I am really enjoying my new workplace. I started this job in April, and I really like the people I work with, having regular hours, the interaction with the patients. It is so not like the last place, where I wanted to gouge my eyes out with the closest available staple remover. And yes, I still miss working with my little tots and punkasses. But I have some aspect of that regular interaction with patients that I really missed while working in the Seventh Layer of Hell.

I'm also back to working with mostly women again, which is working out pretty well. Everyone still looks at me funny though when I start getting the glaze in my eyes that only comes with 2 things: heavy intoxication, or Gator Footbaw (!).

Funny enough that those two things don't have to be mutually exclusive.

Speaking of the latter, the last few weeks of it have been quite excellent. I'm even toying around with starting another blog a little more focused on my observation of sport. But that would require time and effort, and, well, good things to write about. And really, who wants to hear me talk out of my ass about random shit? Related to sports, I mean?


Certainly not Peter. Unless he's taking a break from the Tetris, that is.

Ah, hell. Give me your thoughts. I'm going back to looking busy.

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I am a bad, bad person...

Because I am blogging from work. Not even from my phone, but from an actual computer. I'm rebelling against The Establishment quite brazenly, and it feels oh-so-invigorating, gentle readers!

It's been so long. I don't even really have anything to post. I don't even know what to post. I am merely brushing off the dust and cobwebs from my already enfeebled mind, and I'm itching to get back to writing here so bad, that I'm starting to feel great concern. About the itching. Whatever.



For now, entrance yourselves with Conan's excitement for upcoming pigskin of the collegiate variety whilst I run around the office, and yelling like Billy Bob in Varsity Blues:

"I'm back! Puke and rally!"


Don't ever say an unkind word about the thespian stylings of one Ron Lester, or you will get cut!

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Agony, thy name is bronchitis.

So, it turns out that the horrid hacking, congestion, and lung spasms I have been enduring for the past week or so wasn't the black lung after all. Well, shit. A sick day from work (which I hate taking only three weeks into a new job) and a fabulous visit to the walk-in clinic later (where, no lie, the guy ahead of us in line was daubing at a wound on his knee with a paper towel, and looked as if he had fallen into three feet of water, as he was soaked from his jorts down so badly that one of the nurses removed the chair he was sitting in from the waiting room because the cushion was soaked through), I now sit here, full of antibiotics and possibly addiction-forming cough medicine, trying not to cough and pee myself at the same time.

(Looking back at what I just wrote, I apologize wholeheartedly for the above catastrophe of images. I mean, honestly: jorts. This is where I live, people!)

Anyway, besides neglecting the blog, I've been sick for the past week or so. I've spent all weekend in a haze of medications and being able to do absolutely nothing but hydrate myself and find the following gem, which was the result of stopping for but a second to link the concepts of jorts, mullets, Z. Cavariccis, and Tyler Benchfield:

HEART ATTACK
Tommy Puett
Singingfool.com

I know, I know. It's almost as if I'm trying to make you suffer right along with me. But honestly, if you can make it past the minute mark in that video, well, you are much, much heartier than I. And didn't he sing this on one of the LGO episodes, whilst attempting the Running Man? Christ, I need to get out of my head sometimes.

I'm off to plot the purchase of Life Goes On: Season One on DVD so that I may be able to cleanse myself of this ridiculousness and go back to when Kellie Martin was my hero.

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Getting antsy.

So yes, I could have spent the evening ogling much Prison Break goodness, or doing something otherwise productive, but instead, I chose to fidget with my blog template settings. What do I get for my troubles? Oh, the inability to have my comments posted correctly, as well as a stiff neck (couldn't find the headset for the phone while I was doing all this).

But, I did get that cool picture thrown up there.

I'm a genius!

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Delaying the inevitable.

I know. I know. I've been MIA ever since the National Championship game. Suffice it to say, I watched the game, lost my voice by halftime, and took the next day off. I didn't even really get my voice back until I went back into work on Wednesday.



Because after all, victory... is exhausting.

Perhaps a more complete photo retrospective will be forthcoming. We'll see.

For now, I'm going to go dabble with this layout. Back in a bit.

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Okay, so I've been horrible.

I mean, look. I've not touched B. World for two full weeks. I could give excuses, but comparatively speaking, mine are not as good as others'. I couldn't come up with good reasons, like teaching the masses by way of Nicollette Sheridan, or getting married (so, sorry, dear cousins, but your almost annual bloodlust for taffeta and similar atrocities must yet go unsatisfied).

Sure, a lot of my time has been occupied with surviving work on a daily basis, spending time with people I care about, and Gator football (the latter two mesh quite nicely, I've learned). But I haven't been saving orphans from fires, or helping little old ladies across the street (unless stopping in the middle of a green light because one of them decides it's as good a time as any to cross the street to hold off any and all vehicles traveling at 55 mph from hurtling the oldsters into the void counts). Oh, hell. I'm already tired.

Next up: I may finish a coherent thought. Stay tuned!

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