I thought that back in the day I made a rule about drunken blogging. Well, what do they say about rules and being broken? I have plenty of experience being broken.
But not brokeback. Never. Brokeback. Because, quite frankly, I can quit you. Anytime I want. Just ask anyone. It can happen.

And this isn't necessarily drunken. Not on a Monday night. Not at 7:00 PM. Just a couple of glasses of wine to appease the muse. Because today, quite frankly, coffee didn't do the trick. She was feeling....particular. Probably a tad out of sorts about being required to do her business elsewhere. Neglected around here, don't you see.

So in actuality no rules being broken. Nothing to see here, move along.

This weekend we tried to watch Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. It was too difficult. We gave up and went to bed. Even with the ever sparkly but cotton-candy haired Peter Frampton. He tried soooo hard. And Maurice died for your sins. You know it. Own it.

This weekend I tried so hard to burst the bounds. Professionally. I came up with a perfect paper. But it wasn't really. I found out today. And that's ok. But there is still something rotten in this state of Denmark, and I WILL discover what it is. Just haven't had enough water under that bridge. And don't know the right password. I will, though. That's a solemn oath. I don't take those lightly. Ask anybody.

Had a snow day. Until the afternoon, when it was possible to actually go to the store. But there was snow. Now ice. Later more snow. I am bored. More wine? No. Out of that. Forgot to stock up. Might have to drink Scotch. But not delighted about the prospect, because don't think I will enjoy as much as I should. So probably won't. Speaking in strange shorthanded fashion, and having some difficulty hitting right keys....perhaps rules are being broken. Know when to say when. Otherwise bad things happen. To good people. There was a book written. Not that I bought it- self-help lost its glamour when I tried to stomach A Road Less Traveled at the recommendation of a lunatic ex-boyfriend (Miji for those of you who know the code). Purer bullshit hath never been produced outside of the stockyards. Just plain not applicable. So fuck that noise.

And now I think I must depart, good night sweet prince, say hello to the wife and kids.