Mr. Gobble up there knows he’s fucked. I can sympathize. Sorry about the missing blog this past week, folks. The good news is the rumors of my holiday-depression-induced-suicide are greatly exaggerated. The bad news is this past Wednesday will remain a hole in the Sex & Bacon oeuvre. I survived another train wreck gathering of my family, people I simultaneously love and loathe. I hate all the consumerism rituals that force us into an anxiety gauntlet of stress each and every goddamn year. Pretty sure these gray hairs in my beard are less about the passage of time and more about enduring the season to be fucking jolly.
ANYWAY, I’ve got another tale highlighting my personal lack of common sense and good judgment lined up for Wednesday and I’ll try to stay on schedule. But I had a lot of paying work to finish before Thanksgiving ate my week the way a dog goes after anything dropped on the floor. And you cheap assholes don’t pay me shit for entertaining you with my personal pain. (But I love you, all three of you.) Working title for Wednesday: “Sergeant Hockey Fan.”
Wanna share inappropriate stories and curse where your Mom won’t see? Join our little Facebook group. It’s mostly quiet so far, but I’d like to build it into a judgment-free zone to dump the bullshit of life onto the altar of laughter and pain. See you in the funny pages.