There's a class for that?

Growing up on the farm, I've hauled, shoveled, forked, spread, swept and otherwise generally dealt with cow shit, horse shit, sheep shit, pig shit and chicken shit. During 4 years of college, I lived in the middle of all of Pothead's shit (pre-Pile System). Every day in Chicago, I deal with all kinds of bullshit. Amazingly enough, no training was ever required to handle all of that shit.

So someone please explain to me how I got signed up for a class that includes instructions on how to change a diaper.

I'm Not Ignoring You

It's been a fucking week, man. Last week was great -- spent Saturday through Friday in Grand Cayman just sitting on the beach and drinking beer. This week, not so much.

It's not the starting time so much. 8 am is fine. It's the ending time.

Sunday ended at 6 am Monday.
Monday ended at 2 am Tuesday.
Tuesday ended at 4:15 am Wednesday.
Wednesday ended at 2:30 this morning.
Today ended at . . . It's fucking 3 am right now.

So, I'm not ignoring you. I'm just busy.

WHBH.