Parking – Its Mother Natures time of the month and she has a little extra douche in her step today. There’s 2 feet of snow outside mocking me from my window, and somewhere out there trap under one of those mounds of snow is my beautiful car begging for help. I gear up for battle with a shovel in hand and brave the elements to save my car from its snowy tomb. The grueling battle last about an hour and while the snow was a worthy opponent, Mr. Awesome whooped that snowy ass into submission. I jump in my car and begin my bittersweet victory drive to the gates of hell AKA my office building. After getting paid to bitch about work while watching the clock and actually working as little as possible I head home knowing I have a nicely shoveled out spot waiting for me… or so I thought. Instead I find so a ghetto hooptie parked in my spot. Yes my spot I put the time and effort into clearing therefore for the next few days that spot is mine and mine alone! But apparently this high school drop out, grease and potato specialist aka sped boy that makes the fries at McDonalds feels entitled to take a spot he did nothing to clear. So what should I do?

A)    Pull back out my shovel and bury his car under as much snow as I can till my strength gives out.

B)     Pull out my trusty pocket knife and slash all four of his tires.

C)    Bitch and complain, but eventually find a new spot to dig out and park there, since I’m nice enough not to steal another persons spot.

Sadly the answer is C otherwise the cops show up and suddenly I’m the bad guy in this situation. That’s the part that makes it all that much worse I can’t do a damn thing about it without getting into legal trouble and forever being known as a hot head… Who the hell am I kidding I’m choosing option D.  I’m waiting till the middle of the night then walking outside smashing out this twats back window then proceeding to pour a gallon of gasoline all over the back seat and tossing a match in. There is nothing like sleeping with a smile on your face and the amber glow of victory to light up your bedroom.

A week has passed at this time and all the snow is melted… or is it? No, the snow still exists in huge mounds in the streets because I believe 99 percent of the world lacks all common sense. Snow makes parking a pain so how about rather than making huge snow piles in the street we throw all the snow in our front yards. Some brain dead halfwit just said to himself how would that help? Well since you probably lack a logical thought process from your cracked out mother dropping you on your head as a child I’ll explain. Snow being piled up in these huge mounds means it will take longer for it to melt; in which parking will a pain for a longer period of time. Now if this snow was piled into your yard the street would be back to a normal parking situation in about a day. “But Caleb what do I do with all the snow in my yard”. That’s easy, look up some Calvin Hobbes comic strips for inspiration and begin you’re messed up snowmen work of art.

Winter is full of annoying aspects that piss us all off whether its women covering up ruining my daily visuals, icy sidewalks that lead to more people smacking their heads off the concrete and destroy the few brain cells they have left. So what do you hate about the winter?

I’m getting really sick of being analyzed. I’m sick of being told who I am or who I should be. I’m sick of listening to mindless twits that don’t know a damn thing about me describing me to other people. I’m sick of the human race in general at this point.

Seriously who do you people think you are? I see you out there. Eyes locked on me judging away while I’m at my local watering hole trying to enjoy a few brewhas with my close friends. Sharing whispers while I’m treating my younger sisters to dinner being a respecting older brother while you people created some alter life for me inside your warped minds. I engage a female in conversation and I’ve magically slept with every friend she has and have all intentions of hurting her emotionally because I’m the devil himself that believe no one is good enough. Well you people can shove your minimum wage checks up your ass and drive a segway full speed of the side of a cliff. But no you won’t, will you? Instead you’ll stare at me with your cake holes wide open, forgetting about your minimum wage lives for awhile while you contemplate exactly what it is that makes me be me.

Everywhere I go, I’m constantly flooded with people trying to explain to me why I say and do the things that I say and do. There are a thousand laughable theories. Some people blame a rough childhood that I mask behind a life of glamour. “Oh, I bet his mother was never there…” they like to say with their noses in the air. Well fuck you. The same goes for all you people who think that I try so hard because I’m worried that people won’t like me. When will the world begin to understand that I do not share your insecurities? When will the collective, overweight masses out there get it through their Twinkie-on-the-brain skulls that I’m not one of them?

I’ve explained it a thousand times but I’m sure I’ll explain it ten thousand more. I am not the boy next door. I am not the rebel without a cause spray painting cars around the neighborhood because I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and desperately seek inner acceptance and a normal life. I am not any character you’ve ever seen in an after school special or a romantic drama that finds that special person who turns them around and makes them accept and understand their inner monster and confront it. By the power of Chuck Norris, I’ll just never get why people feel the need to express their own shortcomings by superimposing them on me. I’ll never fathom the logic behind putting your own qualities over top of my personality. Does it make you feel closer to me? Or maybe it’s nothing nearly that complex.

Maybe you ‘glass half full’ morons out there are just so wrapped up in getting your fairy tale, Hollywood ending that the idea of an uncaring, single and secure entity terrifies you more than you care to admit. Maybe you just can’t understand that in the end, good doesn’t always triumph over evil. That the dog sometimes has to die, the disease sometimes has to win, and that the guy and girl don’t always end up together.

That’s the one that always gets me. That epic love story, the Romeo and Juliet tale of two star crossed lovers who would rather die than be apart. Who in the hell writes that crap, anyway? I love seeing the look on some poor fifteen year old girl’s face when you explain to them that eighty percent of marriage ends in divorce, a fact that they already knew from watching daddy get coked up and slap mommy around until they were eleven years old. See, its not that I’m an asshole… I’m a realist. I see no reason to pull the wool over the eyes of the world. I enjoy letting them see the forest despite the trees. Why pollute the minds of the world into believing in fairy tales when the real world is nothing short of an ugly, distorted place? We live in a world where a priest is more likely to find true love in the hands of an eight year old boy than a man and woman are to find it searching their entire lives over. A world in which seventy percent of significant others will cheat at some point. I used to be one of you. I know that seems both pathetic and hard to believe, and believe me I know that it is. I used to believe that the world was full of unicorns and rainbows and real, true love that didn’t end with a money shot and an itchy eyeball. I bought flowers and went on dates and yammered on to all my uncaring friends about how ‘this girl is different’ and how ‘it was real this time’. But you know what? It wasn’t then, it isn’t now, and in a small way, I envy those of you who have failed to realize the sad truth that exists in this world.

Me? I got my moment of awakening.

I watched the only girl I have ever loved walk away rubbing the only real fear I ever had in life right in my face, and I realized right then and there that real love didn’t exist in this world. That time is fleeting, and it’s all about making the most out of what you have. Out of what is real. There are times, like tonight, that I sit around and wonder what might have been. When I wish that when I hit the brakes on my car, she ran to my arms and kissed me and held me in her arms forever. Don’t think me heartless, by any means. But I understand now that the world doesn’t work like that. The world is cruel. More than most people will ever know.

So write your E-mails, scream your insults, and pray for my demise. But in doing so, understand that I don’t wish my fate upon you. I hope you never have to watch that only means of good in your heart walk away with helplessness in your eyes. I pray for you, to whatever deity you value most, with the only wish I have left, I wish with all of my icy heart that you never sit in front of a keyboard like I do now and wonder if you still have the capacity to love.

I am the man I am because I have to be. Because it is impossible to be back in your shoes now that I am filling my own. I am the man I am because nothing else makes sense. I’m a realist that speaks the truth of a situation no matter how it will be received, I will not sugar coat the truth for the feeble or weak willed. I am Caleb Jones… the life I lived has made me the man I am today and none of you will ever be able to see through your own distorted view of me to realize the man I really am.

E-Mail: Dear Caleb,

What is the deal? You starting this blog and actually seemed to have some funny things to write about. I’ll admit I was dying laughing when I first discovered this blog, but out of no where you disappeared. After that you write an apology letter stating you’d be blogging more often… well… I think you have failed miserably at this. So why is that? As a dedicated reader I believe I deserve an answer. Was it carpel tunnel from masturbating because you sure haven’t written anything? How about you do us readers a favor and remove you awesome head from your awesome ass then get typing away.

P.S. you have one week before I never check this site again.

Holy Chuck Norris this chick has some major fatal attraction issues. I’m honestly going to check my house for cameras and install new locks as soon as I finish this post. You know what on second thought that may be too late; I’ll finish this when I get back from home depot… Ok new locks installed, no cameras found and now on to what this lady deserves. She stated she deserved an answer to why I haven’t been posting well the answer is simply. I… Have …. A … Life! Now this takes me to a whole different subject some chicks just have it coming but it takes a certain caliber of man to kick a broad in the vagina.

You might laugh, but I want you to think real hard about that statement. Could you do it? Do you find yourself capable of looking a member of the less-than-fairer sex into her baby blue eyes, past those batting eyelashes, aiming just below the c-section scar, and really landing that cunt punt like it’s the last twenty seconds of the Superbowl and you’re one field goal down? Because try as you might, nine out of ten men are going to back down. Maybe it’s some kind of a moral conflict. From the time so many of us are young, we’re taught that violence towards women is a concept to be shunned. Men are supposed to be providers… we give the babies, we do not take them away. And let’s face it; a solid soccer kick to the vajayjay is not exactly mama’s first lesson in chivalry. Me? I can look past all that moral grey area. Don’t get me wrong, I’m the first to pull out a chair for a lady in a fancy restaurant, or hand her my jacket in the rain, but I’m not to deny a woman her equal right to have acting out of control put into check.

That’s what they want, isn’t it?

It’s all I’ve been hearing for years. Women want equal pay for equal work. Long gone are the days of the faithful housewife, sitting comfortably in the abode you have so lovingly provided her with, taking care of the seed of your loins and helping them grow into upstanding human beings. Gone are the days of a hot meal on the stove and a clean kitchen when you arrive home from a sweaty, self-destructing day in the workplace. The men of today are expected to do their own laundry, cook their own meals, and even share in the housework. And why? Because women have invaded what was left of the male domain. Women in the workplace. Women in the military. And now, women have attempted to invade and take control of my blog. They have stopped ironing and started pumping iron, cast aside their spatulas and traded them in for spandex. I for one cannot hate them this. I’m not some woman hater with a master plan to rid the world of female ‘athletes’. I’m not some sexist pig with an agenda. In fact, I completely and totally support this feminist crusade that the female species has taken upon their shoulders. I applaud their strength in the face of a thousand jeering men who don’t want to see them succeed. But women of the world who step on my toes and called me out making demands? Do not for one second think that I’m going take it silently.

Why would I? If you want to be my equal, you’re going to have to make good on the claim. Learn to set your VCRs. Kill a spider without calling me into the room like a foot soldier with a broom. And most of all, you’re going to sit back and wait for me to feel like writing or hell write something funny yourself! Or maybe she’ll just be another broad with a footprint on her snatch. Either way, I go home happy.

I hope this explains why I have been very light on the content to this blog as of late and I hope it shows why you never call me out! Enjoy tell you future goblin look a like children that you were once the victim of a Cabel Jones blog.

(Cunt Punting a female is just wrong, it was a joke if you’re offended… well too bad.)

I’d like to tell all the aspiring Awesome-a-holics out there a little story, if you’d be so inclined.

Indulge me. Sprint… I mean waddle to the kitchen get some popcorn, grab some chips, prepare to stuff your faces with trans-fats and sugary calorie loaded soda. Continue to destroy your metabolisms and ruin your chances of every reclaiming that lost glory you somehow misplaced in the big basketball game back in high school. But most of all, I want you to remember these words, because the story is not just a fairy tale needing to be told, but a testament to the lives we live.

Here it goes; Pus Monkeys reserve the movie rights now.

Once upon a time, in the far away land of Caleb’s World, there stood the mighty Kingdom of Jonesalot. Its coast and sandy beaches were said as the best in the world, and its towering cities proved the complete awesomeness of its architects and citizens. In fact, just about everything in Jonesalot was pretty awesome all the time. The women were gorgeous, silent, and usually in some state of half naked eye pleasing pleasure. The men for the most part average and dreamed of one day become as awesome as their king. And there in the Kingdom of Jonesalot in the tallest tower lived the mighty King Jones.

King Jones was a wise and awesome king, the most awesome of all awesome things in all the land. His robes were made from the finest silks; Mr. Hefner spoke often of his jealousy. His Tower was covered in Platinum. A Platinum Throne, Platinum records, Platinum walls and even the Platinum dipped teeth of his defeated enemies like Lil Wayne. Basically, there was a lot of Platinum. One day, while sitting in his awesome Platinum throne, sipping the finest of whiskey from a goblet of pure Platinum, the mighty King Jones was abruptly interrupted by a sharp rapping at the door.

“You may enter.” bellowed King Jones

The large Platinum doors of his penthouse suite began to swing open and reveal the most hideous of creatures King Jones had ever set his eyes upon.

“What monstrosity is this that tortures my eyes” yelled King Jones

“My name is JP Griffin your most awesomeness” replied the middle aged, severely graying, portly bellied, absurdly out of shape, overly tall stacked pile of crap that should have been exiled for this land years ago for the simple eye sore that it… he… whatever was.

“I have come to challenge you to a basketball game King Jones. Many say you are the finest player in the land, but I believe I can win.” Griffin’s voice trembled as he spit his load of lies. While yes King Jones was the best in the Land, Griffin never could have truly believed he had a chance to beat the King Jones. NBA greats like Jordan and the self proclaimed King James had tried and been proven to be shmucks.

“As you wish peasant, but when I win you will be banished to the land of the Chewbacca women.” replied King Jones. The land of the Chewbacca women was a dark cold world filled with women that survived off of fast food and knew nothing of proactive or make up. In some horror stories it was said they never showered and imprisoned men as their love slaves.

Griffin stupidly accepted the terms of the bet. King Jones being generous gave Griffin the ball first and made it winner takes. Griffin smiled with joy at the idea that he could beat the most awesome king without him ever touching the ball; however Griffin was not so lucky. Griffin was stuffed on the first play. From that moment on the game was as good as over. King Jones nailed three point shots with ease, drove to the rim and even ended the game with a massive dunk in the giant Griffin face.

Griffin was banished to the land of the Chewbacca women while King Jones threw a private party guest list being himself and 300 female models… life was awesome for King Jones.

Boys and girls, the moral of the story is that at a certain aged we must work harder than ever to maintain our awesomeness or simply look ourselves in the mirror and comes to terms with the waste of human flesh we have become. Middle aged man everywhere the choice is yours hit the gym and eat right while maintaining a life of awesomeness or let yourselves go and fade away. Don’t be dumb enough to challenge a much younger, better looking, and better athlete to a bet you have no chance of winning… it will simply result in your embarrassment. Because when it all comes down to it, an old man is an old man, and the king is the king.

Life is my Tower, Mr. Griffin. It is my home. I rule over this place with an iron fist, and as much as you want to step into my spot and take up the awesomeness on your shoulders, you will always be a peasant moments from being banished. You will always be a joke, a little punchline at the end of a little fairytale. And in the real world? I will destroy you in this stupid bet, just like in the story above. While we’re at it I hope you get a hand job from Edward scissor hands while getting finger banged in the ass by Freddy Krueger’s glove hand for even having the dumb idea that you could ever beat me in a game of Basketball.

Yes some herpes infected middle aged goober challenged yours truly Caleb Jones to a game of basketball with some absurd bet on the line… is he blind or something… does he not realize what a physical specimen of awesome I am.

Native to Madagascar, the Aye-aye is considered an omen of death to many African villagers. Its unfortunate appearance leads the superstitious to kill an aye-aye on sight, causing the population to dwindle. The largest nocturnal mammal, the aye-aye’s behavior closely resembles that of a woodpecker: It gnaws into trees to use its elongated finger to extract grub from within.  (Foxnews.com)

You have no idea how unbelievable pissed off I am right now! They call this thing an Aye-Aye… do I look like a complete idiot! Do I look like I grew up riding the short bus school! This is without a doubt the biggest scientific conspiracy I have ever witnessed. This worst than trying to pass Taylor Swift off as a human and even more despicable than trying to pass an umpa-lumpa named Snooki off as an Italian. This is not an Aye-Aye; it’s a god damn gremlin! Look at the damn thing it’s a Gremlin I tell you and with in the month it’ll be running wild all over office buildings across America.

Breathe Caleb, Breath… Fuck that! You know the worst part this entire situation? It’s that throughout my entire childhood my parents lied to me, my teachers lied to me and that really old Asian guy I’d always see in Chinatown selling the stress balls lied to me! They lied to me time and time again, right to my face without an ounce of regret about. I asked for one thing every year on my birthday, I asked for one thing every Christmas and I even pretended to be Jewish so for twelve days straight I could ask for one thing… a Mogwai just like Gizmo. However they continued to tell me that Mogwai’s never existed, they were only creatures created for a movie. Eventually I accepted the fact that I’d never have the pleasure of owning such an awesome pet. Eventually I accepted the fact that they weren’t real, but guess what all my Awesome-a-holics out there? My parents were filthy liars, my teachers were stupid drunks and that old Asian guy probably wasn’t even really Asian!

I mean think about it the world has pondered for years, what came first the chicken or the egg? Well truthfully what god damn pus monkey give a rat’s ass… no one that’s who. But anyone with half a brain cell knows the Mogwai comes with three rules; Keep them away from bright light, don’t get any water on them and never feed them after midnight. Now when these rules are broken we end up with what? Evil mischievous ugly little bastards called gremlins! So in the picture above I see a Gremlin, therefore Mogwai have to be real… you know what screw this have an awesome day, I need to call my parents and rip them a new one for lying to me for years. What’s next they’ll tell me I have like 50 siblings I never knew about!

I’m basically a walking mindless bag of flesh three levels below a zombie currently, so I will make no attempts at proof reading this… deal with the misspelling, grammar mistakes and random gibberish.

My eyes burn more than my friend Mr. Griffin’s crouch after he “accidentally” boinked a stripper. How do you accidentally boink a stripper? Easy you lack the common sense of looking at the bill you’re handing her. One hundred dollars gone and your reward… herpes enjoy. As I was saying; my eyes burn, my body is numb, my brain is melting away and within hours I’ll probably lose control of all bodily functions. Why you ask, because an all out war is being waged between my professional and social life. My ability to sleep has taken the greatest causalities resulting in the fact that I have slept only 10 hours over the past 6 days. The lack of rest has left me very short tempered and highly irritable. Yes more than normal.

Example: Myself and 2 other gentlemen are driving through downtown Boston, when we come across a blind woman crossing the street. The driver slowed down and come to a stop allowing the women to cross. She is in the middle of the street stop and stares directly at the trucks windshield… I assume she heard the truck coming… seconds later even I’m shocked to here “Why is she just starring at the truck, its not like she can see it!” even more shocking to me… it came from of my mouth. The windows were up and no she did not her me… yes I felt like an ass… yes I hated the people in the car with me for finding it funny… and yes I will deservingly burn in the pit of hells. While she never heard me and she’ll never read this (anyone that laughed, slap yourself now!) I apologize for my misguided anger and rude remark.

The way I feel is currently is my own doing. I’m the moron going out and partying till all hours of the night; getting owned in beer pong and since when is there no elbow rule, playing flip cup with Jack just to prove … what the hell does that prove beside I’m apparently a complete idiot. The sad part is I grow extremely bored with this almost frat boy life style, but every time I turn my back on it to grow up.. a horde of drunken miscreants I call friends do everything possible to pull me back in. “Just call out.” “Come out for just and hour” (which really mean come out till you have an hour till work “seriously man, you work way too much its not healthy”… yada yada… The sad part is I give in leaving me a bruised and battered while still trying to work my ass off the next day in the office. Do I work a lot yes; to be honest I’m averaging 50 to 60hrs a week right now. Most people reading this are like Caleb you’re nuts man… and that’s why I keep getting promoted while you’re still making chump change… sorry like I said I’m irritable. I feel like my goal in life at this point is to advance in my career as much as possible and be prepare for the day when I have a family… what the hell did I just say? … a family? Damn I’m having a mid 20’s crisis!!!!!!

Something has to give… 645am – 1030 pm…. Yup I’ll be in the office trying not to drool on my desk during this time today.

This has been an emo moment from your slightly less Awesome going grey walking zombie.

Caleb Jones

Some of the people reading this blog will understanding where I’m coming from and other will think I have no idea what I’m talking about. Well some of you I wish a great day too and other I hope get hit by a train… just saying. Now to the point. Where is the damn faith and loyalty in Boston sports today?

Boston sports fans have become a group of over reacting whiny little pricks, if this statement insults you… GOOD! That exactly what it was meant to do, seriously has everyone actually gotten this damn spoiled in Boston. The Celtics go up 3-0 against a team that has been unstoppable in the playoff till meeting us and what happens Orlando wakes back up and works there way into the series 3-2. Honestly is it really that shocking people? I personally don’t think it is, the shocking part is how quickly the so called Celtic’s fan are turning their backs on them. The shocking part is how quickly people are saying they’re going to do exactly what the Bruins did. We are still up in the series so for Christ sakes people show some faith and loyalty to your team.

The first loss had a dumb play here or there, but was a close game for the most part. The second loss seemed to be just destined from the start of this game. Orlando was without a question on their A game last night, they managed to find their 3 point range for honestly the first time this series. They were playing amazing defense and forcing the Celtics to take bad shots. It didn’t help that at one point it seemed the Celtic began to panic and just started throwing up wild 3 point shots in an attempt to narrow the Orlando lead. The ejection of Perkins was completed BS, the initial foul didn’t seem like a foul, then the technical call was a complete load of little man syndrome by the referee. Big Baby getting a concussion sure as hell didn’t help either, but you know what… that was game five and well game five is over.

Now on to game six were most of the so called Boston fans have already turned coat and ran. It pathetic and personally you people make me sick. I say hell yeah Celtics take this series at home, so the masses of morons can flip the cars of complete strangers and rile up this whole city. I’m 25 years old and have dealt with years of crappy Boston sports and guess what; I continued to watch, I continued to cheer and I always will. So Boston fans do me a favor and pull your spoiled heads out of your asses, then show some damn faith in your Celtics by removing your pessimistic Facebook status about it’s the Bruins all over again. Instead how about we replace them with “Let’s go Celtic!”, “Beat Orlando!” or anything of this nature that doesn’t make me want to slap the shit out of you. In closing I applaud the effort the Celtics and will leave you with a “You can do it!”

Sincerely yours,

Caleb Jones AKA a True Boston sports fan since birth.

PS. I’ll be at my local bar Friday night with some middle aged hard working blue collared boozer locked in a drunken discussion of how the Celtics of today compare with days of Bird, Parish and McHale.

So in our society it’s looked down on for a man to be emotional, but the truth of the matter is no man can be an immovable wall of emotional control. Men cry, sometimes worse than a two year old child and personally if handled the right way and done with the right reason I don’t see a problem with it. The truth is it’s necessary for a man to lose that tough guy attitude every once in awhile and let go to were going to snap and be the next OJ Simpson.

For example you’ve been living with a long term serious girlfriend and lets say you even had intentions of purposing a little bit down the road once you both got ahead a little bit more at work or maybe finished college or whatever, but without a shadow of a doubt you knew you wanted to purpose to her. Now one day you’re hanging out and she say those dread words “I think we need to talk” yada yada… blah blah… lies, lies and more lies. Basically she just dumped your ass cold… is it ok to be sad, emotional maybe even cry… Yes after you’ve got rid of her and you’re alone, among a family member or even close friend. To cry in front of her or in public is not allowed by any means, suck it up you god damn walking Vajayjay and save it for later.

So this bring to a gentleman I walked by the other day while leaving my office in Downtown Boston. The gentlemen was also walking out of a business office suit on looking important and powerful… well that is till he pulled his cell phone out. He proceeded to call what appeared to be a friend to express how hard the other night had been. He had gone out with a few friends and his Ex girlfriend, which he stated are trying to stay friends. I knew right were this once going and even considered tapping him on the shoulder to be like “Man seriously put the phone away and wait till you get home before you make a complete ass of yourself” however I chose not to. He then went off to how easy seemed for her to be there while it was pure agonizing pain for him to be in her presence with knowing she wasn’t his, but he claimed he had to do it if he wants any chance of getting her back. Then he got teary eyed and his voice began to tremble, by the way still on a busy public street here folks. I’ll save you the rest of the play by play and skip to the end he balls his eyes out in the middle of downtown Boston with everyone looking at him like a crazy person, that’s just not… awesome!

Ok Mr. Cry baby Walker wannabe, this shit is not going to help you, go home and cry it out in private, drink a ton of booze call you brother and your boys to came by your place. Have a fun night of joking around while letting it out a little here and there. The following day go out to a bar find some ass, get laid and get the hell over it! Crying in public is not allowed. (Exception: family death).

It’s a hard thing to get over someone I’ll admit it, but you’re a grown man show some damn composure and save it for later. Word of advice man, mourning doesn’t help; self pity doesn’t help and cry in public makes you look like a vajayjay! The only way to move past it is to get out there and find someone better.

I would like to inform you all that I am sincerely sorry. I am sorry that during my recent absence from this world of blogging that you have all been subject to far less awesome means of entertainment. I am sorry that my fellow awesome-a-holics that have been force to read emotional whiny pity me stories from people that have no idea what a bad day truly is. I’m sorry that I have been too busy in my corporate world on suits and ties to be your gleam of sunshine in your otherwise dreary life.

Ahhh, that felt great to get off my chest, now on to the exciting news I’m back, I’m back and you’re damn straight I’m back! Now let the rebirth of this blog get under way!