I just got slapped
with a wet salmon - really -
I haven't updated
since people stopped clapping
and Tinkerbell died.

You would not believe it!
My hands were chopped off
and I was waiting for bionics.

My bad . . .

I'm swilling chardonnay
with only your readership
as life preserver, distracted
by the shiny, a delightful
mistress to every Lost Boy
who crosses my path.
My day is filled with
fluorescent light --
from 4:55 a.m. until I see
my beloved's 10000
text messages, and I am
beyond drunk
most of the time.

(It will be fun fun fun
till they take my TBird away.)

I swear on the bones
of my ancestors to update
you with my nefarious
activities at the first chance.

No, really!

And I will write more
to certain you's . . . ?
But it might not be you,
in particular,
who I write to. . . .

(A post from The Lazy Bloggers Post Generator, contracted virally from Dr. Medusa.)