The clam dip of my soul

Like my title, feelin' fishy. No, not smelly. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Yes, it's been a while since I've blogged, but damn it--I've had nothing to say. Would you rather I write about nothing like some people and their damn blogs? Sadly, nothing has kept my attention lately. T.V. doesn't have the oomph it once had; do you think I should get out of the house more often?

Work is work. It's the fly in my salsa--what can I say?

I don't know if you've read or heard, but crime in the subways has gone up. Number one snatch-and-grab: iPod. If some bastard tries to steal my iPod, I'll kick him in the nuts, punch him in the throat, throw him in front of a train--wait until the train runs him over--jump down on the tracks and punch him in the nuts again. I do love me some iPod. Let this be a warning to you. If you like having nuts and a neck, stay the fuck away.

What else is in the news? Well, let's just say I filled out the living will they had in the Post. I don't trust anybody. I'll piss my mother off one day and I'll be eatin' from a tube for the next 15 years. I come from a vindictive family. There--I said it.

Went to the dentist today. Let's just say I accept donations at any point.

I love all of you--even the little people. And by that, I mean my minions, not my midgets.

Love always,
Le Fig