Randy makes it so easy to talk shit about him. Bless his heart. He lobs softballs to me every day. I totally appreciate these softballs, because every time I worry about running out of things to write about, he acts all Randy-like and I have blog material that practically writes itself.

Right this second, for instance. It’s not what he’s saying, it’s what he chose to watch on Amazon. He’s watching Corpse Grinders. Remember that scene in Pulp Fiction where Jules is talking about not getting hamburgers because his girlfriend is a vegetarian? “My girlfriend’s a vegetarian which pretty much makes me a vegetarian.”

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There is this diner in Covington, KY called The Anchor Grill. It’s been open a long time.

I tried, you guys, I tried googling how long The Anchor Grill has been open, but I couldn’t find it in under 3 minutes. There is only so much a human can endure. Trust me, it’s been open a long time. I’m going to guess it opened in the fifties, but I don’t know for sure. Look that up for me, would you? (70 years – ed.) Continue reading →

Here’s the thing about Anxiety storm season. When I get hit with a few anxiety storms (which I am now naming. The first one was Muffy Thundercunt and the last one was Sylvia Assbutt) then depression shows up to see what’s going on.

I’m not naming depression, though. Depression is the man in the mirrored sunglasses in Cool Hand Luke. Or the ghost of Christmas future. Anxiety is an asshole, but depression scares me. I know depression lies, but it feels so absolutely like the truth. Depression feels as though it has lifted the curtains, the constructs that we create to shield ourselves from how horrible reality can be and while it shows me how flimsy our shields really are, it also tells me how much I suck.

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