All y’all.

Yes, even you.

I’m tapped out at the moment. Dry. Barren. Arid. The opposite of L’s sweat-soaked bra. I have not-a-whole lot to say at the moment, so I haven’t said anything.

“Don’t give ’em an inferior post, just for the sake of posting,” I said to myself.

“They hate it when you just throw some shit up there for the sake of having an update,” I mentally dictated.

“You’ll come up with something soon. Don’t force it,” I told myself.

But you…you told me something else entirely.

“Wow….this shit is so exciting, I haven’t even minded readed it OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER since SOMEONE hasn’t posted. Thank God for your HUMOR, mister.” – Laurie

“Update muthah fuckah!” – CP

“You need to update more.” – Metalchick

Well, fine. Happy 4th of July, bitches, ’cause here comes an update:

Y’all can kiss my entire ass.

All of it.

I write when my muse tells me, and apparently, she decided to vacate for the holiday, leaving me to fend for myself like my mom did when she and my sister decided to go to Washington, D.C. in the summer of 1991. I got my ear pierced when she did that…God only knows what I’ll do now. Maybe I’ll get my labrum pierced. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo on my scrotum that says “This end up”. Maybe I’ll become a Republican.

Wait – scratch that. I’m not THAT far gone. Jesus, I just gave myself a cold sweat.

Y’all are gonna drive me crazy, and quite frankly, I’m close enough to walk as it is. Do you even have any idea what I’ve been up to?

Oh yeah – you don’t. I haven’t posted. Well, I’ve been busy. I’ve been working, I’ve been in the recording studio (Yes, CP, you’ll get your CD. CD for CP. Got it.), and I’ve been catching up on my reading (“Broken Prey” by John Sanford) and my Playstation 2. Can’t a brotha take a BREAK? What is it that you want, more waterpark pics? More diatribes? Fine – I’ll give you both, right now, if you will shut your meat holes.

These feet? Not jonx. Not…jonx. I was sitting right next to her, and her feet looked like they wanted to rob me of my possessions. I was nervous…I mean, who wants to go down in history as the only man to get jacked by jacked-up metatarsals? Not the kid.

You know what? I just changed my mind. Y’all done got on my damn nerves. No diatribe for you ingrates. If you wanna see some diatribe-like material, go on over to Margaritaville and see one that I did for Fyrchk’s guest post. And if that don’t fill you, well, I might have something that will.

And you don’t want that.

By the way, it sucks when every county around you, including yours, has a fireworks ban, and you still have fireworks left over from last year, and you find out that if you decide to say ‘fuck the ban’ and shoot fireworks anyway, the local po-po will write you a $1200 ticket. THAT sucks.

EDIT: After going to see some cut-rate fireworks from the parking lot of a strip mall in a small town whose name sounds like “sexy” when you say it out loud, we stopped to get some gas, and apparently this is what they’re selling in the store tonight:


And here I thought that shit was illegal, too. Go figure.

Peace.

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