Eight months!

Eight months, and you all thought I was dead.

You didn't even call to see if I was okay! You just made the assumption and moved on. You're so... ugh, I can't even look at you right now.

Haha, see how I turned that from me being lazy to you being a jerk?

So... eight months.

Wow.

The big eight... uh... well, I was gonna say eight-zero, but that's not right at all.

The big zero-eight.

What has been going on in the passed (past?) eight months? Well, in a nutshell:

I quit my shitty phone job again, lounged for about two months, worked as a short order cook in a kitchen, was told I had a really swell, great paying job, quit the restaurant, got screwed for the swell, great paying job, hung around for another month, and got a job at Toys R Us, where I am currently employed.

And also, the biggest and most importantest of all, I am still, yes still, in a committed, loving relationship with a girl I never thought I'd find. But I did. And she makes me do little dances when nobody's looking.

I think that's a pretty good measure of how much you love and care about a person. The kind of strange little dances you do when you're alone and thinking about them.

This is how I measure things.

When I make a cake, everything is measured in "tires". You take a tire, no rim, and fill the hollow part with the ingredient. That's "one tire".

The cakes always turn out to be the size of a small condo. I dunno why.

The local homeless people love it. It's like Christmas. Cake Christmas.

Well, that's enough blathering for me. I need to go... uh.. stop blogging now. I'm kind of annoyed that you're still here actually. You're like one of those guests who won't leave after dinner, but you want to go to bed, but you can't, because this guy is just fucking sitting there watching TV.

A'ight. That's it fo' me, dudes. I'm out.

Peace.

/Choz floats like a butterfly, but stings like a scrape after falling off your bike.