On January 24 I will be 35 years old. And I don't really give a shit that I'm older. For some people birthdays have a special form of neuroses all their own, but for me it's a day all about me- and I'm okay with that. I only get pissed when the day isn't all about me.
I know I haven't blogged in a while, but I haven't really had much all that interesting to say. I'm working my ass off, but business is going well. As far as I can tell my marriage is going well. The exchange student is working out fine. Well, she is a teetotaler, and therefore as you know is cramping my style. No more sending the kids upstairs so I can perform drunken cunnilingus on the wife while she watches House Hunters International. The International part is important when performing television viewing mustache rides. FYI.
In our case she likes to wear her love making socks.
I'm more of a two hour kinda guy. Because two hours of freak is better then one, ya know what I'm sayin'? That's right.
So, uh, fuck you I'm drinking whiskey as we speak.
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