I apologize …

… for the abject neglect. For not being around, to be your big sister or little brother or that kooky sidekick you always dreamed of having like Rhoda or Squiggie (or would Lenny be the sidekick?) or Tweedledee or the “MILF except you don’t have kids” you have come to know and love. Or, if not love, at least like. Or, barring even that, tolerate. I mean, you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t even tolerate me, would you?
Pause to reflect.
And realize the absurdity of that notion.
And laugh self-consciously while rubbing my schnoz with the side of my right index finger in a “Gee whiz” kind of humbleness that endears me to you. Even those of you who were in the “I can’t even tolerate you” camp. Because, let’s face it. If you’re on the internet for more than five minutes a day to do your online banking, you’re bound to “follow” someone — via Twitter or Facebook or JDate or even that person’s good old-fashioned BLORG — whose mere existence makes you cringe and who you “hate” but whose garbage you continue to read because you are the sort of person who not only enjoys taunting a toothache by biting down on the affected (infected!?) tooth until you fear it’s going to trigger an aneurysm (that’s the way these things work, right?) but also pouring Pop Rocks into the cavity for extra drama.
So, what does this all mean? What am I trying to say? I’m not exactly sure. I am not closing up shop. No. I just have to find wares that I want to sell, so to speak. I don’t feel like ranting and raving and telling you about my loudmouth but exceedingly cute new neighbor whose ass I think I threatened to kick yesterday when I asked him to open his door so I could tell him that I didn’t appreciate his acting like it was okay to be so loud on a school night or about the guy at the gym who does handstands in the middle of the mat, thus spurring me to fantasize about wielding an enormous heated aluminum bat against his elbows.
Maybe tomorrow.
In the meantime, Shana has more to say than I do, so you may want to visit her. She is, in effect, my meowthpiece.
Ahoy!