Hello there

Dear Karl Krew,

I apologize for my lack of posts for the last several months. Unbeknownst to you, my turrible experience in sales and ensuing fruitless job hunt created a relentless wave of disgust, horror, and depression in my life–worse than watching Sandra Bullock and Mo’Nique win Oscars. As I struggled with the cold realization that I have no purpose upon this Earf, I lost the will to blog. I did eventually find a job, but it was the incessant pleas of the Krew that brought me back. You begged, cajoled, and insulted until I finally realized what an irresponsible douchebag I was being by treating you like Sarah Palin treats an elected office.

So I have returned. And like Chuck Sheen standing at the door with a bouquet of roses clutched within his bloody knuckles said, “I’m sorry, baby….I’ll never do it again”

Although it shames me to acknowledge what I missed while I was gone, I think a brief selection of highlights from my hiatus are needed (in no particular order):

• The Madden experiment finished with me only being 6 games down overall, after betting of thousands of dollars on hundred of games…and the Saints topped it off by giving Peyton Manning a big fat CP in the Super Bowl;

• My father decided to initiate an alpha-dog footrace in the middle of winter, which ended after 1.5 seconds with a bloody 55-year-old laying in the street;

• Speaking of dogs, I successfully renamed a 12-year-old’s puppy from “Stryder” to “Spider” in less than four hours–and his family still calls him that;

• BP crapped the bed and invited us all to roll around with them in the sheets;

• Speaking of excrement, I took a trip with my bookie to Vegas, which culminated in him assaulting me in our hotel room whilst covered in his own urine;

• Dio finally decided that we didn’t have the balls for the job and went to down to fight Satan and take over Hell by himself;

• Speaking of death, Gary Coleman did what should have been done decades ago, and Bret Michaels almost did too;

• The other tranny from The Golden Girls also died, but nobody cared.

• Speaking of nobody cared, I think we had a Winter Olympics.

• The greatest reality show of all time, Jersey Shore, molested our eyes and treated our minds like Ben Roethlisberger treats 20-year-olds

• Elton John managed to give every queer person in the world a big, fat middle finger when he sold out faster than Toby Keith tickets in a trailer park by playing at Rush Limbaugh’s fourteenth wedding.

And speaking of Limeys: just this weekend, some brown-tooth Brit muffed a World Cup goal and subsequently managed to shorten his expected life span by decades. Watching him fruitlessly claw in desperation after the ball provided me with a burst of schadenfreude not seen since Lindsey Jacobellis deserved her just reward for being a hot-dogging twat in 2006. Soooooooooo good! Goddamn, I hate me some Brits.

Pip-pip-cheerio, everyone. I’m back.