I don’t want to work. I want to bang on the drum all day.

Why? Because it makes neat sounds and I can keep time with the clock.

Bang, whack, bang.

Seriously, I’ve been working on this one task (for nine projects, mind you) for a few weeks and I’m not sure my brain can handle it anymore. I think it may actually be turning to jelly. Headline:

MAN DIES OF JELLY BRAIN, WIFE EATS TOAST

I imagine, however, that it would be buried on page 12 of the automotive section. I just don’t think I’d rate front page, despite the fact that my brain turned into a condiment that should have been refrigerated.

Clearly I’ve been bitter lately. I’m not sure why. It may have something to do with my caffeine consumption. (Which, I might add, I was supposed to cut down on, according to the doctor, if I wanted to end the reign of GERD in my stomach. Hey, that sounds like an evil corporation in a Sci-Fi flick. GERD seeks world domination through the ruin of the gastrointestinal system of humans. It starts as a burning. Then you can’t sleep and then you puny humans die. AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Or something. This is a long parenthetical statement. I wonder if I wrote an entire book as a parenthetical statement, would you be able to discount the work in its entirety as a side comment?)

The other day my wife came home and watched me make a cup of coffee. For some reason I decided to add a few scoops of International Coffee. I hate the stuff, but it makes a good cup of coffee taste like a treat.

“What are you doing”, my wife asked, eyes wide in terror.

“I’m adding this to my coffee. For flavor, you know.”

“That IS coffee. That has caffeine it too! You’ve just made your one cup of coffee into two!”

“Duh! Did you think I was doing it to remind me of our Parisian waiter Jean-Luc?”

She’s currently not speaking to me because she thinks I’m going to die of a heart attack right about . . . now.

Headline:

MAN DIES OF HEART SEIZURE FROM INTERNATIONAL COFFEE MIX: WIFE RUNS OFF WITH JEAN-LUC

That might make the front page.

Well, this weekend is the big birthday. 29. I’m supposed to be freaked out because I’m nearly thirty. But I’m not. Hell, it’s only age. The fact that my youth is over is greatly exaggerated. In fact, I relive my youth every day of my life. I may have become a responsible adult, but I can still wear Mickey Mouse underwear with the best of them.

You didn’t need to know that did you?