For quality control purposes, I like to limit my posting to one a day and this is the part where I'd normally type my imaginary brain's imaginary lines of grade Z snark such as "back to the drawing board" which is doubly funny because as I admitted in print (electrons?) the other day, I cannot draw. Yes, the title is in fact not misleading because I'm actually a few shades to the shade 'cause it's just me home tonight I think the kids are at grandmas and my sometimes-better-half is probably searching for a rich and handsome man of which both things I am not and after working for hours upon hours at the library today I stupidly didn't recharge the don't-set-humans-on-fire portion of my cerebral kotex -- now that's funny -- when I exited the wheelie bus -- sorry, no tales for thee, fairest lords and ladies, verily I shalt trieth hardereth nexteth timeth keeps on slippingeth slippingeth into the futureth -- but worked some more on my paper but then I said fuck it and am on I don't know which glass of not cheap but not expensive white wine, why does that always sound higher class than it is, years of subconscious societal conditioning I guess I'm not high class trust me. I did this once before, boozing and blogging, not just boozing, and it was a big chart-topping (is that one word usually?) hit I'm not looking for the link find it yourself if you want and I decided to start working on hot flash fiction don't worry it's pretty coherent at least in comparison to this and one thing led to another and I ended up naked while surfing for porn. Just kidding about the first part. Now I have to find a suitable photo as always and correct all the typos, surprisingly not many because I'm not THAT blitzed and I'm still pretty good at typing while fucked up but I'm not picking that famous shot of the thong-ed chick passed out because I'm not a chick and don't wear any underwear. Just kidding, of course I wear thongs. I'm sure I'll wake up tomorrow and go what the fuck were you thinking you doofus, and all the other doofi will laugh but then I laugh at their laughing and since my powers of laughter are laughably bigger, laughably like ha ha ha oh fuck when you throw up that cheap useless defense mechanism in the face of imminent death like by acid-blooded aliens, zombies or Congress, then I will emerge victorious from the battle crown royale but I'm not wearing tights. A cape, maybe, but only if it comes with a matching scepter so I can clock fuckers on the skull. Okay so I lied about the picture but at least I didn't use the morans one so leave your barbs and leers I can take it because I love you all except all of you, that's like a fucking paradox wheeeeeeeeeeeeee.