a terrible stnank

ACK! I have just made ... a terrible stnank.

I had a whole decent post right here, waiting to publish, and then my keyboard went totally insane. I ended up having to unplug the damn thing from the iMac.

I was writing about how awesome Augusten Burroughs is, again, and to tell you all that I just finished reading "Dry," his memoir about rehab (only 30 days, that wuss. I could write EIGHT books about 30-day rehab). Reading his tales of bizarro-things they make you do and bizarro-people that you meet, I found myself identifying with a frightening number of stylized caricatures and exaggerations of events that have happened to me, as well. He took it all to heart, though, whereas I always thought it was interesting, but mostly crap. And there he is, an ad agent writing books, and here I am. Here I am. what a terrible stnank.

I am also about to make what I hope is not a terrible stnank. I'm selling my car.

It may just be that I spent all of last winter indoors, and simply do not know what cold is any more, and will regret my decision once the weather turns frosty. However, the more I think about it, the more I'm okay with living the bipedal-ambulatory life. I'll be clean and green, helping America to free itself from its addiction to foreign oil. (No 12-step program for that, yet.) I'll walk, skate, or ride everywhere, giving myself the incredible gym-body that I know I deserve. I'll live within 20 minutes of school, and best of all, I won't have to get a job until school starts. It'll be magical. I will also be unable to drive drunk, drive too fast, annoy other drivers, or almost crash when I try to get my ringing phone out of my pocket while I'm driving.

Boy, this is sounding better all the time. Hey, you. Yeah, you, reading the blog. Wanna buy a '95 civic?