One year later.

There's a delicious irony in having one's anniversary on 8/8. Yes, an anniversary that celebrates something so goddamn wonderful, it's a shame that such a massive idiot out there shares the date as his birthday. Oh well on that one; he's someone else's problem by now. Or, perhaps, no one's. I would hope that the taint of his dishonesty hasn't been hung over anyone else's head in the time elapsed since I last told him "no" (just four months shy of four years ago, how the time flies!), but on the other hand anyone stupid enough to fall for it pretty much gets what they deserve in doing so. Learn to watch your back, ladies. That's all that I'll say on that one.

It really doesn't give me as much of a thrill to post here when I don't know my audience; back in the day when LiveJournal was taking off and everyone was on it like files on shit, you could guarantee at least one stalkeriffic visit per day from the unwashed masses out there. Here, well, it's just personal, is all. I'm probably the only one who really goes back and reads this. I'm cool with that. There's nothing meant to be fanatical here, just some everyday bullshit about how 34 years later, life finally took a right turn and stuck with it. That just about sums it up.

I could make a laundry list of people who might read this as a test to see if anyone actually is, and then deal with folks freaking about about their names being in print, but you know, I'm over the online retribution thing. It's about as dumb as social networking, which I like only for the pictures and ease of getting back in touch, not as a platform to launch my views about everything under the sun and beyond. Ho hum. I wonder if there'll be a "next big thing," or if we'll marinate in Interwebz-being for the next couple of years, focusing on one-upping each other with our "smart" phones. Bleah. When the day is done, all I care about is Bill and my bologna sandwich.

Happy Friday the 13th, all you stalkers!