Blogosphere, Forgive Me for I Have Sinned ...

Four-and-a-half pounds later, I'm writing again. I'm like the prodigal pen pal. I could submit a litany of excuses, but why waste your time? I'm here now. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

Wow, in the title and first paragraph of my segue back into the smog-filled blogging bubble, I've made three (count 'em) references to Christianity, my third favorite religion of all time! Ooo, ooo. How well do you know me?!? Which are the first two favorites? Any ideas? Oh, to clarify, narcissism and man-hating are not religions. They're ... pastimes.

So, I'm back. Suffice it to say that my life has never been more different or less stable. This side of college and a host of family catastrophes later, I have found that the real world leaves much to be desired. What I wouldn't do to crawl into a diaper and a stroller with a bottle of soy milk in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Sheesh!

While I'm still in the New York, I've moved elsewhere in my hood ... yet again! And, I'm still with Daniel, which I find completely ass-backwards. Shouldn't it be ONE apartment and FOUR boyfriends later, and NOT the other way around?!? RiGHt??!?? I've written a letter of complaint. I wonder if anyone'll respond. Do they even read those?!? And, you have to send them by email. No one reads hand-written shit anymore, not since the Bush Administration outlawed writing and thinking for yourself. (God, I sound bitter.)

Either way, Dan and I is still around. We're on the precipice of completing our second year of togethery goodness. It's next Tuesday [insert hyperventilation face/noises]. I know; I know. I was shocked when I realized that, while I am technically getting younger, this relationship is setting all sorts of records with time and space and the cosmos. It's funny how that shit works ... math and numbers and the rings inside trees and shit.

I guess I should be nicer as I try to get myself back into the good graces of my on-the-verge-of-extinction readership. helLO?!? ANYBODY OUT there (there there there)?!?!? Penance sucks, though. How can I be expected to be nice now with all this unwritten angst up inside me?!? Plus, I'm nice all day, sort of.

The truth is that I've been thinking about writing again for a while. But ... then ... oh ... I just don't do it. It's like getting a gym membership. Or, it's like that affair that one of my girlfriends has been meaning to have. She tries to "make it happen," but then she just gets busy again with he regular boyfriend. "It's only sex," she hums as she overcompensates with big dinners and even bigger credit card debt.

But, me and that friend, we're more alike than you think. Yeah, because, at the end of the day, whatever our sins, whether I don't write or she's sleeping with a hot blue-collared creature who could never afford to marry her, we'll both come around feeling shitty about ourselves. We'll try to make excuses, eat, apologize, eat, and it'll all end up feeling like the past High Holy Days. Guilt with a side of brisket ... unless you're a vege-lesbian like me. In that case, it's guilt in a chilled glass straight up with a twist. Straight, no chaser.