Reunited

[Ed note: There were too many fucking exclamation points in this post. I redacted them. I didn't wanna come across like some goofball.]

Well, after a long conversation with a friend last night, I've discovered the source of my blogging ennui: I've forgotten the funny. Some of you might protest that I've never had the funny. To those people I would say, Just go away like Motley Crue, biznatches.

I keed.

Anyhow, while I'm off at my humor retreat in the Catskills this weekend (I'm really looking to the Aristocrats symposium: "Is The Dog Fucking the Son Going Too Far Given the Current Situation?"), you should go read Winkyshock, which is not so much a blog as it is an encapsulation of working as a corporate drone. Kinda like The Office, only without those strange accents.

Speaking of strange accents, dig this big crux. My friend S has FOUND M, whom I'm sure you'll recall from one of my boozy adventures this winter. The beauty is that she's never met M, nor seen him, but she saw this shady-yet-affable character in her local bodega and she just *knew* it was him. No longer a Missed Connection.

Suffice it to say that we'll be going down to Iona tonite to catch M dee-jaying some most excellent soul and whatnot. You should too.