Fine.  Good.  Stay there.  I'm going to Denny's with my new like-minded friends.  You think I need this blog?  I eat blogs.  This big, my P.O. Box, (big, like big, big) Now listen, I found a little ring of a key-chain on the floor while I was fidgeting around in my chair; I didn't know if I wanted to yawn or scratch my hair first.  I held the ring for a while, but like all men, I wanted to stick my finger in the hole.  Eventually, I decided the ring would go on my finger next to my pinky on my left hand.  I'm going to wear it like that at the restaurant—see if I get some looks—and probably all day tomorrow, where I'll be at a picnic, then I gotta mop, then a dance.  They are going to think I'm domesticated; it's going to make them hot.  I don't want to be alone tonight.

I can't believe they're playing "Bird on a Wire" at Denny's!  

I walked to the restroom to have it all, as I walked out and was admiring my hands, I looked up and there was Sid Haig at a table with other people, people who look like him and Rob Zombie—women were listening to him talk—and there was a moment where he looked at me.  I know, right?  Obviously he's a fan of my blog!