29th
November
2007
I blame tryptophan myself
And another funeral (what did I tell ya’ll, it runs in threes), a whore dog almost knocked up again, and the creation of possibly the most elaborate homemade Christmas DVD that could garner Oscar nominations if I so decide to enter it.
Those are a few of my excuses. If you want the rest, you’ll have to ask, beg, cajole, kneel and writhe about the floor.
Or just comment. That will work.
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