Oh, around. Reading a lot, commenting some. Putting up a post on the New England Mamas blog. You want in? Swing on by, email Mrs. Chicky. She'll hook you up.
Every evening, I sit down at the computer, fingers hovering over the keyboard and I have the mental equivalent of the yips. I write but it sounds stupid. Or I can't think of anything to say. So I haven't said anything. How fucking exciting, huh?
I'm trying to wrap my head around what the fuck Congress is doing. Why did we elect Democrats if they're just going to cave in to the Republican agenda? I'm trying to be pissed off, but I can't even summon the energy for that. I think I've reached the apex of cynicism, finally, when it comes to politics.
And the damned *spit* Yankees took two games out of three. Curt Schilling looked like shit last night - it was ridiculous. Why he wasn't pulled earlier is a mystery. I guess Terry Francona couldn't hear me screaming at him. Next time, I'll use a megaphone. Asshat.
I'm trying to formulate a post about going back to work, but it's been done before and probably done better than I could do, so again, I wonder why I should bother.
If June is the major mood suckage that May has been, I'm going to crawl into a hole and sleep the month away. Fuck this for a game of soldiers. This blows.
If anyone finds what little bit of creativity I had, could you send it back to me? Thanks....