Saturday 25 October 2008

A new crisis

Ok, so I've restarted my blog. I had one about a hundred years ago, but I killed it because I never got a chance to post. Every now and then when something really irked me I wrote at length about it, in hindsight there are a few I would have loved to have saved, but alas, I was a dumb-ass and lost them. Let's try again shall we!

This blog is in retaliation for my wife's blog - http://www.wilsonworld.typepad.com
She references me at times, for better and worse (mostly better) and I feel the need to get her back. Go there and laugh at her - she's almost as screwed up as I am. She's a good writer, a student and a mom, great friend and nemesis. She needs a counterpoint at times - hence, me.

I really have nothing groundbreaking to say at this point, just a starter. No news on yet to comment on, nothing in my world to expunge on unless you count my sick father in my basement, my weird job, my kids sitting on the couch watching a poker tournament instead of cartoons, and the fact that we're just too damn stubborn to turn the heat on yet, so we're all covered in blankets and heavy sweaters.

My cat holds the mortgage on the place - we answer to him. My wife is also in the midst of a mid-life crisis, my car needs new tires, the foundation has a hole in it, yadda yadda yadda, nothing to really see here, move along please. Maybe move along to http://glasspoeme.blogspot.com
Great photographer, great writer, fellow newspaper guy. You'll like his sense of humour and wit. This is one of those people you need a dictionary in hand to read his stuff.

This is my first post with nothing really to write, so it ends here today. More useless facts when I feel like it.

Cheers.

3 comments:

  1. Cheaper than therapy, and you don't have to leave the house! Welcome to the blogosphere!

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  2. Ok, so why did it not put my URL? Instead it did some sort of melding of yours and mine. Weird!

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  3. Wow, Keith. You keep sweet talking me like that, I'm liable to start finishing the papers on Friday afternoons, and, more dangerously, actually start believing my own press.

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