The Fat Lady Considers a Tune

I'm really sucking at this blogging thing.

Every few days I think, "I'm going to retire."

But then I don't. Instead I throw up - both literally and figuratively - a political cartoon to buy myself a few more days. It's now been a week, and I've still nothing interesting to say.

Fortunately for us all, Fab Boy is coming through - with flying colours - his dry spell. He seems to be getting back to something of his old self, and for that we are extremely thankful to whatever Power that be.

Erin occasionally...like now, for example...goes silent for weeks on end only to come back with a massively humorous series of posts that keep everyone coming back for more.

If Alejna gets stuck in the... stucks... it seems that she instinctively turns to PANTS for a few Diet-Coke-out-the-nose-inducing posts, we all roll around laughing, and then she gets her groove back.

Me? Not so much. No pants. As a matter of fact, today I am wearing culottes, which are decidedly unfunny. Unless you are as short as one of the women in my office (who is 60 years old, mean as a damn snake and we call her The Troll) and you wear culottes with boots, trying to look cute, but instead look like you're wearing tea-length, bell-bottom trousers. Those are some funny culottes.

I think I've lost my mojo, kids. I'm not posting, I'm not emailing and I'm barely Facebook-ing.

Tired of the computer I am. Tired in general I am.

So I think I'm going to go on sabbatical. I didn't know that's where I was headed when I started this post, but that's where I've wound up.

Of course, next week I am headed to Berkeley, California - the most liberal burg in the most liberal state in the Union.

Betcha new material walks up to me on the street, takes my hand, buys me a drink and gives itself to me.

Betcha.