The first post on a new blog always feels fresh

Like a glass of lukewarm corner gas station bourbon and stale cigarettes. Ahh! That hits the spot.

This really isn't much of a change of course, using the same template and all, but it did require a bit of behind the scenes tinkering to make the transition easy. It's all part of my tireless efforts to bring to you, dear reader, a seamless string of inconsistent diatribes. Now go fishslap that monkey and be done with it!

I also finally got around to fixing the sidebar links. Welcome to Neckfro, whatever the fuck that means (I really hope it's not the mental image I have right now). Neckfro is a college buddy of JB's who I've met a couple times off and on since college. We ate mushrooms once in college and again on the 2000 New Years. I don't remember much from that night except my old Chicago roommate taking the largest chug of Jagermeister I've ever seen, I mean like several mouthfuls, and RCR doing a mini-cheerleading thing in honor of "time moving on" which still causes giggles. RCR and JB were there of course, so this story is really kind of pointless since all 3 people who read this blog were there.

The only other person who may stop by here is this crazy Australian guy I'm going to just call T for now who I met at the bar (he swears he's from Manchester, but you know how them Brits lie, I mean Aussies). T likes to sit at the booth by the door and read books on Friday nights. At least he gets out folks. We're going to work him up to accepting free beer any week now. He sports an interesting black jacket. It's what you would expect a goth Sherlock Holmes to wear.

So now that I've alienated you all, and procrastinated from work for quite awhile, I think maybe I'll go get something done. Nnnnn... in a minute. It's heady days here at world headquarters. Especially for me the CTO (I promoted myself from Chief Engineer because I can).

I went to my friend Bob's house for the SuperBowl. Yes, we lost. That sucks. Bob isn't his real name, but he's a tall black guy with dreads, so he's getting referenced to Bob Marley. He's another person I met at the bar (the bar across the street features prominently in my life). He couldn't leave home because he has an 8 year old daughter. She was pretty cool I guess, as cool as an 8 year old can be anyway. She found it extremely funny that I could burp on command so of course I did so, copiously. I thought she was going to pee her pants. Yes, I'm reduced to burping for 8 year olds for an ego boost.

Bachelor cooking report: I just polished off my last can of ravioli, so I'm only 6 cans of tuna and 8 Cup -o- Noodles away from starving. ( ... if only I could lift my arm and speak, I could order a pizza ... no, [cough, cough] no fresh tomatoes, substitute roasted garlic ...) I made nachos the other day with cut up chunks of Spam which I had sautéed in olive oil and garlic (seriously). I'm out of hotdogs, but I have some hot italian sausages that I'll probably slice up and put in some spaghetti. Looking at the remnants of the case of Mac and Cheese makes me a little nauseous, but eventually hunger will override that. Normally I wouldn't condone snacking on croutons, but since I have no lettuce it's fine.