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I know I said that I was just 'going for cigarettes'.
And that that was over a week ago.
But before you hurl the lamp at me.
The saucers, the fire extinguisher, hear me out.
I was removed from internet contact during my final week in Harbour Breton.
I'm not there now.
I'm in my parents' rec room.
I was born here. I'll die here.
So, there's that.
Then I had my obligatory rummage through dad's liquor cabinet.
I was hammered for a couple of days, and I'm only bouncing back now.
So put the lamp back on the end table.
It's the touch lamp I got your for your birthday.
Remember?
I got the day wrong, and you said, "I don't want your fuckin' touch lamp."
So I sat outside and plugged it into the house and kept touching it.
Until you let me back in.
Remember?
We can get past this.

Starting now.
Lose your driver's license and wife.
It's St. Paddy's Day.

So I'm making small talk and dressing nice in the schools I grew up in.
The teachers get older and balder, but I'm still Mike's youngest.
I don't know if they're going to call me or not.
If they do, it will no doubt catch me off-guard.
Not much of an accomplishment, really.
The calendar catches me off-guard on a regular basis.
Days of the week.

I have a show at Yuk's this weekend.
And for once I'm advertising myself.
Somewhat.
Oh!
Speaking of which.
I joined Twitter today.
I still feel like taking a shower after I say it, but I guess that will pass.
I checked their frequently asked questions to find out when it will pass.
But there was nothing there.
I joined primarily to track video game developers.
But if I can figure out how to integrate this into the blog somehow, I might.
Anyone know how I might go about doing that?
Peter's drunk for the Doha Paddy's Day celebrations.
So we'll ask him later.

You're officially an adult the first time that you say to yourself:
"Oh shit, I just swept that!"
A salary has nothing to do with it.

Alright.
I'm going to go pinch some people not wearing green.
Only day you can get away with it.