Dead Aim

While walking Bob today, I found a dollar bill and the New York Driver's License of some guy named Yossef.

Yossef, if you're reading this, you'll have to contact me so I can return your license. The change of address sticker on the back is totally worn off. And may I ask why you aren't an organ donor? Just wondering.

I was going to say that if you could correctly identify the dollar bill, I'd return that too, but I already spent it on a pack of gum. Sorry about that.

I realize my most recent posts have been the blogging equivalent of empty calories or summer re-runs of Will and Grace, and my apathy has whittled down the number of people reading to exactly one, but there’s a reason for my absence.

My wife and I are going to be parents.

While this news has brought about prolonged periods of joy and excitement, there have also been bouts of sheer terror. I’ve needed some space and a bit of selfish reflection. I mean, this is serious, isn’t it? Many, many questions need answering, but I have realized a few things:

1. I’m going to get way more advice than I need.

2. I probably shouldn’t spend money on hookers and blow.

3. I don’t want to, but I’ll probably learn what a mucus plug is.

Rest assured, this blog won’t become a “daddy-n-me” journal, but I suspect you’ll have to indulge me from time to time. Besides, I’ve been thinking of “re-imagining” this whole blog thing into something else anyway. We shall see what happens.

More on this shocking development soon.

After months of meaning to do so, I finally went to see some Organic Comedy at Karma Coffeehouse.

As advertised, the parking was difficult and the comedy was excellent, but it was not hosted by Dan Tobin. Apparently, he had the night off.

I should ask for my money back.

Q: How good was my television show pitch today?

A: Pretty damn good.


Q: How good are the chances it will ever go anywhere?

A: Not very good.

Finally, there's a Condiment Packet Museum.

My muse hasn't left me, but she's resting a little.

Be back soon.