From Poet to Pimp
I know. I've been slacking something fierce over here. It's sad really, since Honea Express is my favorite, but alas it doesn't put food on the table and by the time I have a moment to post here it's 3 in the morning and sleep wins out. Stupid sleep.
That doesn't mean I haven't been busy. Here's what I've been up to (yes, I'm my own pimp, no middle man):
Writing open letters to Jamie Lynn Spears (as seen in Hustler).
Discussing Randy Pausch and his 'last lecture.'
Smoking Tom Cruise.
Starting fights between Katie Holmes and Victoria Beckham.
Starting fights between Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton.
Making fun of John Travolta.
Making fun of Vanilla Ice.
I've also been raving about the latest in bacon undergarments, designer gas masks and some article filled with pictures of hot ass.
If you belong to Parentricity, and if you don't you should, you'll know that I'm still having nights of wind and whisky and staying healthy.
I haven't done squat over at DadCentric or The Disney Blog, which makes me feel like a real schmuck. More so.
Yes, I'm busy, but it's a living. Just know that no matter where the internets take me, I'll miss you the most.
In closing, I'll leave you with the immortal words of another pimp poet: