I am a bad blogger.

No, no. Please don't protest. I know it's true.

I'd like to say that I've been quiet all week because I didn't want to tell you all that I still don't know where we're going. But I used that excuse already when I had to explain to my mother why I haven't phoned her in *gasp* 5 days. And I can't say that there's been nothing in the news world that's collected my ire because there's just been so much inanity that I've been a walking, talking bad mood.

Except for that dude who cut off his own penis. That was just funny.

But the truth of the matter was that I was in New York City. By myself. With other adults who have similar interests. And having the opportunity to interact with people was exhilarating. But, dear readers, it was also a bit exhausting. Because I realized that when I'm out and about in the real world I manage to use up all my schtick on the folks right in front of me instead of saving it for y'all. And then when I sit down to the keyboard to write, I find myself spent. I'm guessing it has something to do with the large, animated hand gestures I tend to use when telling stories out loud.

So I'm sorry. But I'm back in the real world now. And since my toddler doesn't really give a crap about what a moron Dick Cheney is, I'm guessing I'll be back up to record postings soon.