All Apologies

Dear non-existent reader,

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. My last blog entry kind of made me lose the will to blog, for whatever reason. I'm now over that though, which is a good thing for you (hopefully). I promise to never desert you like that again (maybe). I look forward to writing many more entries for your entertainment, even though you don't exist. It's kind of like when I was a kid and I played with my imaginary friend, Charlie. Sure, he didn't exist, but he let me put things up his butt. Wait, that came out wrong! I mean, he let me touch him in his naughty spots. Oh hell, I shouldn't have typed that either! Shit, my backspace key is broken! It looks like I'll have to leave all that. I hope that I don't make any more tpyos for the remainder of this post. Yes, that's what those were...typos. If you would be so kind though, please forget that I said anything about putting things up my imaginary friend's cornhole. The same goes for the part about touching his naughty places. Those were very confusing times that every child goes through. You probably experimented the same way yourself, right? Right?

Anyway, expect better blog entries from me in the future (this isn't one of them). And yes, I realize that better is a very subjective term. If my past is any indication, however, you're in for some real mediocrity. I like to set the bar low and then hit it out of the infield (I also like to mix my metaphors). I've been average all of my life and I don't intend to stop being average now. When I played Little League baseball, I was often times the ninth batter and right fielder. As you may or may not know, the ninth batter is typically your worst hitter and the right fielder is typically your worst fielder. I was both. And while some would argue that being the ninth batter and right fielder is far from average, I have this to say. I know you are but what am I? Yes, I just went Pee Wee Herman on you (that sounds kind of dirty). Deal with it.

So, what else could I say? Everyone is gay. What else could I write? I don't have the right. What else should I be? All apologies. In the sun, in the sun I feel as one. In the sun, in the sun. Married, buried.

Okay, that's all I have to say...for now. Until next time, you stay classy, San Diego.