You like me.  My writing style. Or the hotties I include in my posts.  Whatever it is, you like it.  And you’d like me to post more.  Or hell, post SOMETHING.  Especially since the Packers won the big game.  Right?  I mean I haven’t even updated the header with the 4th Lombardi trophy.

And I didn’t talk about the labor battle.

Or the neck tattoo of the Superbowl ring.

Or Charles Woodson making good on his promise to visit the president.

Or Adrian Peterson, like Prince before him, both in MN I might add, claiming he was a slave.  A spoiled, coddled, millionaire slave.  Sign me up for that shit.

And I’d love to tell you that I’m going to make it up to you by writing the best writing that’s ever been written, and do it just for you.  But that writer’s guilt is like a fish that’s been caught, cleaned and turned into fish tacos. It’s dead is what I’m saying.  And I ate it.

But I’ll write.  I’ll get back in the swing.  And you’ll like it.  Oh, yes you will.  Don’t ev- Yes you wil- JUST SHUT UP, OK?  I’ll write. You’ll read.  Everyone will be happy again. Sort of.

Oh, and I give away some shit I never got around to giving away last year.  Like my dignity.  Where the hell did I leave that, by the way.

Anyway. Talk at you soon.

Heterosexual hugs and kisses,