Where did we go wrong?

This country is falling apart. The government's freaking out over bonuses they knew were being paid to the fuck-ups at AIG. Geithner doesn't know how to fix the banks. Rush Limbaugh gets press coverage for his cocksuckery. People are trying to scalp tickets they got for free to the Jay Leno show in (or rather, near) Detroit even though the tickets were overpriced in the first place. The North Koreans are holding two of our least-known (and least-careful) journalists. Nobody watches Friday Night Lights but me, two of my friends and the critics. Gary Sinise writes columns for CNN.com. YouTube apparently took down my favorite Van Morrison performance. The Special Olympics are waging a war on the word "retard."

And if any new countries were formed or dissolved in the last seven years, I need to update my motherfucking globe.

That's it. I'm drinking all day.

Oh wait. Here's something right with the country: the great Alejandro Escovedo.

Tip o' the tweed cap to a nice save

It was actually recommended to me in my annual performance evaluation at work that I be more social. I explained that I go to the bar every night as evidenced by all the dry heaving I do in the men's room each morning.

No dice. Turns out, I need to be more social at work so people will recognize me if they need to ask a copy editing question. Great. Meet people to let them know I'm the resident socially maladroit editor. Like there's anyone who can't spot copy editor types a mile away. With our pocket protectors, orthopedic shoes, inappropriate comments, awkward silences, Simpsons minutae and so forth.

But that still seemed like something I could at least think about working up the nerve to consider. And then a miracle happened: St. Patrick's Day. The happiest day of the year. Our office is apparently on notice from the parent corp. to watch unnecessary spending. So we didn't get the beer we thought was coming to us at the afternoon "party." Instead we all got a swift Irish kick to the nuts.

THEN... a hero emerged, took up a collection and made a beer run. We were drunk and dancing on our desks before the 5 o'clock whistle blew at 6.

Everybody's happy. We had a good start to the St. Patrick's Day evening. Alcohol was absorbed into the bloodstream. Stories were exchanged. Asses were photocopied. Typical unofficial office party shit. Plus, I accomplished a mother fucking career goal. Ya heard, bitches?







Excuse me while I type up my two weeks notice.

Lost my phone

I lost my phone last week and bought a new one for hundreds of hard-to-come-by dollars. In the same week, I had other unexpected payments, including to the IRS, who think because I consider myself a liberal that I want to pay more tax instead of getting a return.

But I will have the last laugh. Someone found my phone. And I'm either faking my death or founding a church. I can you tell which I prefer.

Where've I been?

Well, I'll tell you.

Right here.

I sign in to this blog several times a week.

But I get distracted.

By movies.

By beer.

By other projects.

By work.

By Twitter.

By news stories about Twitter.

By news stories about douchebag public officials who use Twitter.

By music.

By bars.

By healthy eating.

By unhealthy eating.

By dogs.

And whatever else there is in life.