Back-to-back bloggin' days is rather uncharted territory for my ass these days, but it's happening. And even though I can't be sure my titles ever make any semblance of sense, this one certainly doesn't as the blog days are continuing as I type along here. So why am I back? So I can shout out the east coast, my place of birth and much of my life development. It's been largely good to me but the more I think of it the more I think I'll be making a long-ish goodbye. Not permanent, but certainly for a lengthy period. I was happy to see folks in Jersey, New York, and in Mass (also en masse), but the bulk of the humanoids with whom I did not have a pre-existing relationship ended up leaving me largely cold. No, it was not just the temperatures, because it's nut-bitingly cold here back in the Chi which means I am speaking in one of those what you might call metaphors. It is not as if the temperature of my body actually dropped upon interacting with these folks.
In other metaphors, my legs and feet are motherfuckers. I reference this a little too frequently I feel, and the fact is I've no idea what the legs of others are like, so I am in many ways unqualified for commentary. I will just say that I hope this is not what other peoples' legs and feet feel like. While it's been a hell of a long time, I can still remember when my shit was normal, and by shit I mean feet and legs. I am clarifying as I have quite the penchant for discussion of poo. It used to be if those bastards hurt, not how much. I will direct the rest of this rant to my yet-to-be-purchased web domain: www.quitchabitchin.com.
In non-metaphors I just ate two really unsatisfying big cookies. I wish they had been soft, or I had had some milk for dunking. This, I am sure, would have taken care of much of the hardness issue. I am thinking I am going to engage in devoid-of-sweets-December. Yeah, I love the shit out of sweets, but I'd like to keep my type two diabetes jokes as jokes. Really though I just want a glass of milk. The rat-tail, much to the disappointment of my loved ones, is likely to remain.
And this right here, folks, is a perfect reminder of why I do not blog daily: it gets to getting an awful lot like a dear diary and, well, there are diaries for that. Between that and concluding this post, I did take in the Victoria's Secret Fashion show. It didn't quite have the magic of 2009, but it was still damn good. I want to say it will improve your life, man, woman, and child, but it may give all unrealistic expectations on what humans look like.
And lest I go an entire entry without including an outside link I exit on an exposé of the wonderfully corrupt world of higher education or, I should say hire education. L-ooooooooooh-feckin'-elle.