Meanwhile.
Missy Elliott is the queen of pepperoni who is rocking my world. Try shaking a stick at this stuff—You’ll fail! Fail, I tell you!
Also: Seven Second Delay on podcast. All the nearest/dearest who live in other states who’ve helped me burn down my phonebill to cinders of late—and this, too, rules: the actual, um, MFA program, in which I am enrolled? For which I am paying cash money? The whole, err, reason I am here in Beachtown at all? Yes. It still rules to be doing this at all and so I declare: A moratorium on all this chest-pounding, garment-rending Woe Is Me (Or Woe is I to be grammatically stodgy) biznullshit writin’, at least here in websiteland. I mean, please. Lord knows you don’t come here to be sobbed at. So, basta.

It’s a beautiful, bright crisp day and I’m off to go visit my grandmama. I have a new tattoo on my arm, making it completely likely that you'll never hear another word from me again because lord, she’s gonna kill me.