Don't Call It a Comeback - I've Been Here for Years

Well, it has been quite a while since I have posted anything. In light of that, it would make sense for me to have some magnificent and meaningful essay on the timelessness of sharing and/or here's what I've been up to. That will not be happening. Instead, I will without ceremony, be re-opening this meaningless Junk-fest most post-haste and for no rhyme or reason. Those of you still on this particular wavelength of earth-time may be pleased/surprised to hear that:

• I'm getting married in August to an amazing woman. We're incredibly happy and are deeply entrenched in planning/managing/damage-controlling the activities.  I've added a link to our wedding site. Please visit. 
• Seattle is my new home. If I had continued to write for the past two years, it would have been littered primarily with this fact, and the idea that Seattle is AMAZING. Stay tuned for variations on this theme.
• I'm still pretty awesome, with occasional veins of nerd. 

That said, post-its in hand, feel free to rage against the reality of it, but I'm back. Boom.

-J

Wednesday

So have you ever had one of those days, where you get off work at eleven o'clock, feeling like one of Calvin's snow men, in terror and agony about the futile life you live, and so pissed off about it that the only thing to do is to pack your lunch for tomorrow, slam two Bacardi Razz's, hop into bed and read post-apocalyptic sci-fi serials until you can't hold your eyes open anymore?

And then you wake up the next day, trying to remember the dream you had, whistling to yourself, hair sticking straight-the-hell up (like you like it) and thinking, "I should blog about the uncanny human ability to separate the punishments of yesterday from the promise of tomorrow."

Has that ever happened to you?

Me too.

Cleanroom Rantings

So, as it turns out, leftover Uncle Bills' pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, and fried chicken is a delicious mistake. AKA Heartburn Central. But it was fun while it lasted. Also, little known fact, the open sign at 3am on the Vietnamese sandwich place is gloriously deceiving to drunk-Us. (drunk-Us is hyphenated for a reason people. Keep up. It's called rhythm*.)

Well, the Pabsts were cold and cheap, the conversation relatively obscene, and the music good enough to thump in my seat. Last night equals a sucessful Monday. Thanks Kyle and K.

-Junk

P.S. KB's eye was less swollen - from when his bony-assed friend was thrown bony-ass first into him whilst breaking into a CWE pool a la 4am-get-stuck-like-a-pig-on-the-fence style. That happened at the old place once, and I pulled the guy off. Gross. I didn't even know his name. But it didn't happen this time; because I manhandled John-John thighs and got man-glittered in the process. Left 'em a present, too. My least favorite Calvin Kline whitey-tighties were found by some erstwhile poolman early Sunday morning. Enjoy, poolman, enjoy.

*Great scrabble word.