I'm not supposed to be here.
Probably not at this milestone post. And certainly not in this place. Either in life. Or in this corner of the internet.
But here I am. My 100th post.
(And here I am...well, I'll spare you the as yet untold gory details of my own misspent journey. Today.)
I will confess to launching this thing as an attempt to land a book deal. I figured that a cleverly compiled record of my own travels through re-adolesence would be enough of a hook to grab some publisher's attention and get me paid.
It hasn't quite worked out that way.
This thing has become a cool little hoop in the backyard where I can shoot around whenever I feel the urge. It's also surrounded by a large grandstand perpetually filled with millions of people.
(By "millions," I mean "four." Like what 2 X 2 equals.)
I am not one for ceremony. But I do believe we should pause a moment to celebrate what might be called my:
TENTH TENTHENNIAL EXTRAVAGANZA!!!
BTW...today is my 32nd. If you need to get at me, I'll be at the bar. Watching the Tournament. And the Lakers. Setting a new record on the pop-a-shot machine. You can send a pretty senorita after me if you like. (Preferrably one who looks makey-outy.) 'Cause I'll probably need a ride home.