Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

Ha! How's that for random? Again, I've been on one of my lackadaisical blogging exiles and that song title popped into my head. Does anyone remember it? Oh, Paula Cole. As I recall, it's a pretty cool (and depressing) ditty. I like the verses better than the chorus, but it's catchy. And I liked it much better than I Don't Want to Wait, for sure!

. . .

Anyway . . .

I am so sorry! I totally forgot to properly greet all of you, my faithful readers, who have been without the nourishment of my writing for nearly a month! Apologies. Many many apologies. I prescribe myself a million Hail Ellens (Ellen White) and some flagellation with a rope made of petrified Big Franks (if you're not familiar with the Adventists, you probably won't get these references).

So, what have I been up to? Not much, my friends. Not much. Still working and going to class. Playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 and a few matches of Halo: Reach. Oh, and Wanda and I got a bird feeder, thinking it would be a great torture device for our two cats and a pleasant diversion for us to watch out the patio window. So we trucked to Lowe's this weekend and bought a feeder, two kinds of feed, and a pole to hang the feeder on. And nothing! No damn birds have shown up. What the hell? Last night we went for a walk and contemplated trying to capture a few birds and transplant them back in our backyard. Patience, I suppose.

I've lost a few pounds and that makes me happy. I hit the third notch on my belt today which is good because the second one is probably getting worn out. And think of all the other notches that I could hit if I keep losing weight! They'll be so happy to finally be useful! Their purpose in life will be fulfilled! That's who I'm doing it for, for those neglected belt notches.

All right, enough of this drivel. Until next time, avoid the Kardashians.