"We've got bigger problems than a numb vagina."

--Jeff, Curb Your Enthusiasm


OK OK ... look. I know. It's been a long absence.

First, from Shaq to Coulter to everything in between there's too damn much going on and not nearly enough time to do it justice.

Second, you're not gonna believe this but living in a barren wasteland severely impacts the potential for good personal commentary.

Third ... my home laptop is down for the count and so far not getting up on its own, so you ungrateful bitches better appreciate that I'm still at work. Don't expect any amazing wit here ... as opposed to my normal entries.

...

[tumbleweed]

...

[chirp]


Anyways.


A few of the many pressing questions to bounce off my mind since last we met:

1. Barbequed with my nextdoor neighbors this weekend. Why do gay men think Margaret Cho is so goddamn funny? I never realized how much they seriously love America's favorite pudgy, raunchy, "it's-okay-to-be-me" Asian comic. (She's really cornered the market.) And no, "barbequing with the neighbors" wasn't a euphemism.
   
   
   
2. Who knew I played better poker when severely not-sober? Let's put it this way: I've got a four-week winning streak going, and this week I was actually announcing my cards to the rest of the table. And I took that hand. Why am I playing cards while severely not-sober? Please refer to question number two.
   
   
   Speaking of high...
   
   
   
3. That's what my former grad school's faculty must have been during recent closed-session deliberations, because they just gave me and two other students this award for the latest graduation cycle. I'm pretty humbled by it, to tell you the truth.
   
   So humbled, I'm wondering what they were smoking. Hey, at least now I'm not the journalist who writes about water playgrounds anymore ... I'm the *award-winning* journalist who writes about water playgrounds. Giddyup.